


Bullet With Butterfly Wings

by wtfkovah



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werecreatures, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, First Meetings, Fluff, Interspecies Relationship(s), Lycans, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 73,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24345196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtfkovah/pseuds/wtfkovah
Summary: He’s wearing two T-Shirts but no coat, which isn't nearly enough clothes for an October night in Seoul. Though Seungcheol is pretty sure the guy isn’t feeling the cold because it’s obvious as day that he’s a fucking vampire.Seungcheol can smell it on him.For all that he’s not a big man, there’s a vibe about this guy that warns Seungcheol’s primitive instincts of another predator in the vicinity.What he doesn’t understand is how the guy can’t smell him back.Is he fucking nose blind or something?Or does he have a death wish?
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Comments: 120
Kudos: 437





	1. Babyfangs

**Author's Note:**

> RE-UPLOAD

Things tend to happen without explanation in Seungcheol’s life. Random, confusing and unexpected things. It's irritating, because random, confusing and unexpected things are hard to plan for. Honestly, some days it's like he’s literally bouncing from one disastrous adventure to the next, but by this stage of his life, he should _probably_ get used to it. Being born a Lycan completely kills your ability to have a normal life, though Seungcheol thinks he's just about managed to create some normalcy for himself by sticking to a few rules.

1) Eating three regular meals a day.

2) Avoiding the colour red.

3) Limiting his red meat intake to once a week.

4) Avoiding the colour red.

5) Cutting down his alcohol intake.

6) Burning off his excess energy in the gym.

7) Staying away from certain areas of the city, and therefore pack politics.

8) Avoiding the colour red. (Yeah, he’s mentioned it three times, but it’s really fucking important.)

So far, those rules have helped steer him, helped him stay ahead of the crazy curve and given him a life of his own.

It might not be enough to fill in the inevitable missing pieces, but it comes damn close; and it's near enough to peace that he thinks he could be happy. Genuinely. All he ever needs is more time. If he gets the urge sometimes to howl at the moon and chase rabbits, that's just a matter of willpower.

Of course, all that was _before_ he got attacked by a vampire.

Although, attack is probably a _strong_ word considering the context.

* * *

It's freezing cold outside, and though it's still dark Seungcheol knows it's fast heading towards dawn. He gets off at his stop and yawns, waits for the bus to glide away before crossing the road towards his house. Fumbling for his keys at the front door, he hears a rustling to his left: a trashcan being upturned. When he turns his head, a pair of eyes glow back at him in the darkness.

Someone is standing there, watching him, a line of perfect stillness in the shadows.

“Who’s there?”

Seungcheol feels kind of stupid saying it, because he's sure that’s the opening line to every horror movie—right before somebody gets _stabbed_.

The figure steps closer, moonlight pours over his features, giving it angles it shouldn't have.

“Your worst nightmare.” The stranger says.

Seungcheol narrows his eyes again at the sound of the voice, working against the urge to clench his hands into fists. There’s a sibilant hiss to the syllables, and he knows what that means.

“Ronald McDonald?” Seungcheol asks calmly.

“Uh— _No_.” The man drawls, and there's a frown somewhere in the shadowed lower half of his face. “It is I, the darkness in the night.”

Seungcheol gasps quietly, “Holy Moly, Batman, is that you?”

“What? No!” The guy huffs, and this time he's definitely frowning, Seungcheol catches it in the brief glow of moonlight as the man emerges from the shadows a little more. “The darkness in the night—not The Dark Knight!”

The guy looks in his early twenties by Seungcheol’s estimate, despite how short he is there is a deepness in his voice, and the way he holds his body is a strange combination of rigid tension and insouciant calm. He’s got Blonde hair with dirty-blonde roots, and Seungcheol revises his estimate of the guy’s age down a bit when he tips his head up and shakes hair out of his face—probably not _quite_ twenty. Whatever eye make-up he'd been wearing looks as if it's been smudged off by the night and tired fingers. He's thin but his clothes are too large, frayed and holing at the seams. He’s wearing two T-Shirts but no coat, which isn't nearly enough clothes for an October night in Seoul. Though Seungcheol is pretty sure the guy isn’t feeling the cold because it’s obvious as day that he’s a _fucking vampire._

Seungcheol can _smell_ it on him.

For all that he’s not a big man, there’s a vibe about this guy that warns Seungcheol’s primitive instincts of another predator in the vicinity.

What he _doesn’t_ understand is how the guy can’t smell him back.

Is he fucking _nose blind_ or something?

Or does he have a death wish?

It's the only explanation that makes sense. Some sort of complicated _'wherever I go—that becomes my territory, blah blah blah,'_ that only other vampires or a really expensive therapist could ever understand. Or maybe— _maybe_ he’s just so young he’s never faced a Lycan before.

It’s possible.

Lycans are so few and far between these days, the legends about them so varied and often preposterous that Seungcheol is almost never recognized for what he is. It would certainly explain why this poser is here, in Seungcheol’s territory, totally oblivious to how much danger he’s in.

“Oh. Well,” Seungcheol shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He gives the vampire a careful once-over. “You’re too small to be Batman anyway. _Robin_ —maybe.”

The vampire pulls his mouth into a thin line, _so_ obviously offended. “Robin? Fuck that—I’m better than Robin. Wait—” He tenses, stepping back a little out of the light. “You can see me?”

“Uh— _yeah_.”

The vampire shuffles back a little more, “What about now?” His voice is a slow rumble of sound now. Not quite as sharp. Seungcheol thinks there's another accent somewhere underneath, long-buried and unplaceable.

Seungcheol sighs a plume of warm air. “Yeah, I can still see you.”

The vampire shuffles back a little more. “What about now?”

Seungcheol can still see him—his mouth is open, and he's all teeth and blown pupils in the darkness. “Yeah, that's better. You’re kind of obscured by the shadows and your teeth are glowing. It’s creepy.”

The vampire seems pleased that he’s achieved ‘ _creepy’_ status.

“Good. Now, uhm, prepare to die.” The vampire says, but for some weird reason he sounds frustrated and angry at his _own_ suggestion.

Seungcheol doesn't quite manage not to laugh at that. “O- _kay_.”

He judges how far it is to the door and determines he _could_ make a run for it—if he wanted. Avoid what’s coming next and not get his hands dirty for a change. But honestly, he _kind of_ wants to see how this will play out.

Before he can make up his mind, the Vampire surges forward, lightning fast and suddenly his hand is flat on Seungcheol's shirt, cold all the way through to his chest. One simple push takes him into the wall with a thump, and a strong hand around his throat pins him there.

“I’m really sorry about this. This decision does not come lightly, but it must be done.” The vampire explains, weirdly polite.

Seungcheol snorts, “Oh _really_?”

A nod, then, an awkward cough. “Yes. But don’t take it personally. You have been selected entirely at random.”

Seungcheol isn’t convinced he’s in any danger, though he knows enough about vampires to play it carefully. “I see. Well that sure makes me feel a whole lot better.”

The vampire’s throat works through a heavy swallow, when he speaks again his voice cracks. “I’ll try and m-make this as p-painless as p-possible, as long as you d-don’t try and r-resist.”

He doesn't sound sure of himself, but his eyes are a flare of burgundy, bleeding outwards into his skin and are fixed on Seungcheol’s neck, on the pulse pounding in his veins no doubt.

Seungcheol holds up his free hand, palm open in a gesture of surrender. “Not resisting.”

The vampire looks confused for a split second, before his hand clamps round Seungcheol’s shoulder, forearm at full tension, muscles straining. The creature's hands are freezing, one moving to wrap round the back of Seungcheol's skull, fingers pressing in hard enough to hurt, making him look up to the sky.

“Any last words?” The vampire says, licking his lips. One hand's curved round Seungcheol’s throat and it's strong but Seungcheol knows he could crush it if he wanted to. Squeeze tight until bones break and mangle—just thinking it makes his fingers twitch, makes him smile.

He considers it, just for an instant. Considers reminding this guy exactly which one of them is on the high protein diet and which one of them is weak and soft and vulnerable because they haven’t eaten in what looks like a _month_. It's a reminder Seungcheol is always happy to give. But instead, he lets the Vampire shove him again, lets him have his moment of _horror_.

“Yeah, I do actually…could you hurry the fuck up?” Seungcheol says roughly.

A soft noise draws up the Vampire’s throat: it sounds like shock. “Y-you’re not s-scared?”

“About slipping into a fucking coma cause you’re taking so long? Yeah, petrified.” Seungcheol deadpans.

The vampire stops looking at Seungcheol’s neck for long enough to raise a truly impressive eyebrow of 'what the fuck?' at him.

“Well?” Seungcheol prompts.

Confused shifts quickly into annoyed disbelief. The vampire inhales, sharply and pins Seungcheol to the wall with one quick shove before shifting up on his tip toes and sinking his teeth at the bend of Seungcheol’s neck.

Well—that was _probably_ his intention.

Seungcheol can feel the wetness of lips and tongue on his skin—but not the sharp sting of teeth like he expects. Instead, there’s a blunt scrape where the teeth don’t _quite_ pierce the skin.

“Uh?” He ventures after a moment of nothing.

“Relax.” The vampire’s voice is muffled where his mouth is still clamped around on Seungcheol’s neck.

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “I _am_ relaxed.”

“Don’t resist.” The vampire says, trying to bite down again—but still not managing to sink his fangs deep enough.

Seungcheol spares a quick look down, eyebrow raised. “Still not resisting.”

Though the angle is awkward, he can make out the vampires furrowed brow as he _tries_ to feed, jaw relaxing and clenching as he tries to latch on.

“Are we doing this or what?” Seungcheol asks. He’d really like to get this out of the way soon—he’s got work tomorrow for fuck’s sake.

The vampire’s jaw opens stiffly, and he slips down a little, releasing Seungcheol’s collar where he has it fisted in both hands.

“I must— _feed_ on you.” There's a catch in the middle, like it hurts to say it.

Seungcheol shrugs, “No argument here.”

The vampire does look up at him then, face twisted into something horrified.

“Not that you have much choice in the matter.” The vampire continues talking, breath cold against his cheek and the length of his neck. “Any minute now, I will pierce the skin and drain you.”

Seungcheol actually checks the time on his wristwatch. “Does your definition of any minute now mean sometime in the next century? Because I have places to be dude, and this is taking longer than I expected.” He replies dryly, earning another equally horrified expression.

Shaking his head as though to clear it, the vampire shoves him harder against the wall, leans up for another go.

“Say goodbye.” He whispers. Then:

“Just wait.”

“Hold on.”

“Almost there.”

“ _Dammit!”_

“Nearly got it that time.”

“Death is coming.”

“Just..give…me…a…second.” The vampire mumbles in between increasingly desperate attempts to bite him, again and again.

Seungcheol can't resist laughing, because it's all just too funny for words.

“This going to take much longer? I’m kind of hungry man, I haven’t had dinner yet.” He chuckles.

“I’m hungry too!” The vampire snarls with too many teeth. “Why do you think I’m doing this? You think I _want_ this?”

His grip relaxes, just enough that Seungcheol could shake himself free if he wanted to. He does, in one smooth movement, turns and steps back.

The vampire tries to reach for him again but stops short from actually touching him. His shoulders slump as he clenches his hands into fists and then tugs at his own hair in frustration.

“Dammit. Why! Why can’t I do it. Stupid, useless— _urghh_.” He says, his voice is hard and angry, shaking like it's an accusation.

Seungcheol scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. It’s not like your life depends on that skill or anything. Oh wait, yes it _does_.” He says, tone some obscene mixture of joking and tragic.

“Shut up—just shut up.” The vampire says, stepping back out of Seungcheol's space on wobbly legs.

He stumbles on his next step and has to grip the wall for leverage. His breathing is laboured and Seungcheol can hear the way every exhale is slightly louder than the one before, the way the air trips out of him in little rushes. It’s like all the energy has drained out of him suddenly—or perhaps he used what little energy he had left to launch his pathetic attack.

Seungcheol straightens out his jacket, smoothing out the crumpled collar. “Not to be that guy, but I’m a little disappointed. I was expecting more. You want to give it another shot?”

After a minute of heavy breathing, the vampire slides down the wall, pulls his knees up, and lets the back of his head rest against the brick.

“I— _can’t_.” he says finally, the word shaking out of him. His head tips forward, dirty blonde fringe falling over his face. “I’ve been trying for so _long_. Been hungry for so long.”

“Well—A for effort.” Seungcheol sighs and goes back to unlocking his front door, wedging it open. When he turns back around, there's a complete and unnatural stillness to the vampire now.

Seungcheol steps closer, bends down to study the vampire only to find the guy has passed out. Probably from exhaustion. Or _hunger_.

“Uh, hey. You probably shouldn’t nap here, it’s almost light out.” Seungcheol says, giving him a gentle nudge with his foot. He doesn’t put much force behind it, but the vampire goes sprawling awkwardly over the pavement anyway.

“Aw, dammit.”

* * *

Seungcheol picks the vampire up in a fireman's carry and nudges the front door open with his foot.

The vampire is lithe, light and cold to the touch, soft muscles where Seungcheol had always thought he'd be heavy, thought he'd be strong and unbendable. Seungcheol could twist him until he _breaks_. Which is a tangled-up mixture of fascinating and horrible.

When he lays the small vampire down on his bed, the vampire winces, hands pulling over his head until Seungcheol draws the curtains over the weak, early light. Which is when it sinks in, properly, that this is really happening.

He’s taken in a stray. A stray _vampire_.

He looks the guy over while he shrugs out of his jacket and changes out of his work clothes. Attractive enough, Seungcheol supposes, in a jailbait sort of way with that light hair, pale pink lips and lean face. But unassuming, especially with his features softened in sleep.

The vampire has one pale hand flung across his chest, fingers curled. The tips of them are delicate, and ever so lightly blue. Without thinking about it too much Seungcheol reaches a hand out, touches the length of them. The vampire’s fingers twitch and curl around his, squeezing and then pulling away, as if he doesn't know what to do with Seungcheol’s warmth.

Seungcheol grabs a blanket and drapes it over the sleeping figure, tries to arrange him more comfortably on the bed. His limbs are sluggish and covered in dirt, and now that Seungcheol has an opportunity to examine him more closely, he can see sunken in cheeks, dark bruises like a watercolour of yellow, blue and purple over his pale skin.

Seungcheol’s never seen bruises on a vampire before. It’s not generally a good sign. He looks more like a prisoner of war than a vampire.

Gently, Seungcheol tips the guy’s chin down, thumbing apart his lips. He lets his fingertips slide over the vampire’s tongue and the sharp edges of his teeth, then pushes on his upper lip up to examine his fangs. Or—what the guy’s _passing_ for fangs.

Seungcheol’s had his fair share of run ins with vampires during his life—but he’s never, _and he means never_ —seen a vampire with such tiny fangs before.

Baby fangs in fact. The word _Awww_ comes to mind.

No _wonder_ he couldn’t pierce Seungcheol’s skin with those babies.

Seungcheol leaves ‘Babyfangs’ sleeping on the bed and decides to head to the living room to catch some much-needed sleep himself.

As soon as he slumps down on the couch, he starts to regret it. This is a stupid idea, an incredibly stupid idea, and he has no idea why he’s still going through with it. He tries to tell himself that he couldn’t have very well _left_ him to _burn_ up on his doorstep. That would have attracted the kind of attention he’s been trying to avoid.

* * *

Seungcheol doesn’t sleep well. He doesn't sleep at all, in fact.

Every noise makes him jump; the hum of the fridge, creaks in the house, cars driving past. But however much he listens, he can’t hear a sound from the room next door. He finally gives up on sleep and gets up at 11:30am, pads into the kitchen to brew himself some coffee.

Thinking ahead, he decides to pull a bag of Psuedo-Globin out of the freezer to defrost. It's still in date, and 'fortified with Vitamin B12!' according the packaging. It’s not the most appetizing breakfast, but his guest is going to wake up soon, _hopefully_ , and he’s going to want to eat _something_.

Luckily, he still has a few bags left over from his last ill-advised hunt, because he doesn’t like the idea of leaving the vampire alone in his house to go emergency grocery shopping.

* * *

A few cups of coffee later, when Seungcheol goes to check on him again, Babyfangs is awake again. 

He’s sitting against the end of his bed with his knees pulled up against his chest, slouchy and brooding and in desperate need of a feed. He barely looks over at Seungcheol; mostly, it’s the flicker of tension in his narrow jaw that tells Seungcheol he’s been seen. 

“Where am I?” He asks without preamble.

“Good morning to you too.” Seungcheol greets, closing the door behind him. “We’re inside my house, and this is my room, and that’s my bed which I so graciously vacated so you could nap. I would have offered you the ceiling, except I don’t have any rafters for you to _hang_ from, so the bed was the only option. Don’t even _think_ about hanging from the ceiling fan, my landlord would freak.”

The vampire’s making eye contact now, at least, shocked into it by Seungcheol’s relaxed tone. He looks hollow-eyed and confused, hands twitching in oddly helpless ways, as if he doesn’t know whether to relax or defend himself.

“You…you brought me _inside_?” He whispers in awe.

“Well— _yeah_. The sun was rising, and I figured you’d be a lot worse off if you woke up with the sun shining down on you.” Seungcheol chuckles, attempting to project an air of harmlessness as he moves closer, until he can round the side of the bed nearest to his guest. He clearly isn't passing for harmless as well as he thought though, because the small vampire flinches, a tiny hiss escaping his lips instinctively.

“Hey, now—none of that. I’m not going to hurt you.” Seungcheol says calmly, holding one hand up while he hides the blood bag behind his back with the other. “Just think about it, would I have bothered to bring you here if that was my intention?”

After what Seungcheol considers is a pause that's just a shade too long, the vampire relaxes a fraction. Perhaps too tired to stay suspicious.

Seungcheol takes two more steps, until he can sit on the edge bed. Babyfangs doesn't say anything at all, so it looks like Seungcheol is still carrying the conversation here.

“What’s your name?”

Babyfangs doesn’t answer, he just sits and stares at the dirt still smeared over the leg of his jeans, the dirt under his fingernails.

Seungcheol heaves a sigh and crouches a little, puts his face directly in the vampire’s sightline. “Yeah, I know you don’t want to tell me, but I think I’ve earned it after that little _spectacle_ outside. Also, you’re kind of in my _home_. I need to know.” He protests, because he's just too damn tired for this.

“Jihoon.” The creature offers at last, reluctantly.

“ _Jihoon_?” Seungcheol echoes curiously, “That sounds… _not corny._ ”

The only response he gets is a flat stare.

Seungcheol smirks. “Sorry. It’s just I was expecting something elaborate and corny. Usually vampires have dumb, traditional, corny names like—Orpheus, Afanas, or _Cornelius_.”

Jihoon’s mouth twitches with private humour. “ _Cornelius?_ ”

“I know— _lame_.” Seungcheol shrugs affably.” But, _hey_ , it’s _your_ tradition not mine. Jihoon sounds normal though. Maybe you weren’t around when they were handing out the corny vampire names.”

Jihoon’s brow pinches in the middle. “Jihoon was my grandfather’s name.” He explains.

“Huh.” Seungcheol shifts a little closer, trying not to move too suddenly. “How old are you exactly?”

“I’m almost nineteen.” The vampire murmurs quietly

Seungcheol shakes his head. “No, I meant what’s your _vampire_ age?”

Jihoon blinks at him, eyes wide with confusion. The confusion can only mean one thing.

Seungcheol jerks upright, brows raising. _“Oh_ —holy shit. You’re new at this huh? You’re like a _vampire baby.”_ He gasps.

Things are making a lot more sense now. Finally, Seungcheol understands why the vampire was foolish enough to attack _him_ of all people. He’s so young and reckless, he was probably _drawn_ to the overpowering smell of Seungcheol, instead of treating it like the warning it was intended.

“Hey—I’m not a baby.” Jihoon says, with all the offended sensibilities he can muster. It turns out he can muster quite a lot. It’s adorable.

“Yes. Yes, _you are._ You’re a little baby. _Aww_.” Seungcheol coos. “You shouldn’t be out alone—you know that.” He tuts.

There's an annoyed huff of air, it sounds impatient, and still just a little bit offended. Threads of embarrassment threatening to leak in. Which is ridiculous because Jihoon has nothing at all to be embarrassed about. It’s his progenitor’s responsibility to teach him this after all, to take him under their ‘wing’ so to speak, and teach him their vampire ways.

The young ones never really understand that it's not just dying and coming back. The don't realise the body isn't the only thing that changes; Vampirism also tends to burn away all those instincts that come from being a prey species. Which is why the ones that convert them tend to keep them on a short leash, for the first decade or so at least.

Seungcheol scratches his chin and regards Jihoon thoughtfully. He doesn't look like the sort of person you'd pick to turn into a vampire. But then Seungcheol supposes ordinary people don't attract so much attention. Maybe vampires aren't clinging to their old habits.

Regardless, this stray is alone and clearly very hungry. Jihoon’s not his responsibility, but….

Okay, so Seungcheol still has absolutely no idea why he’s doing any of this, but it’s too late to back out now. _Probably_.

“Okay, so I need to do something, but I’m going to make this as painless as possible.” Seungcheol begins, which on a whole, isn’t the most reassuring thing to say.

Jihoon tenses, uncomfortable, breath quick and afraid even if he tries to hide it. Seungcheol can taste it regardless, that thread of fear.

Seungcheol’s up before he even realises he means to move. He has no trouble at all grabbing Jihoon’s arm and yanking his sleeve up; it’s enough of a surprise to make the vampire yelp. 

“It’s okay— _sshhh_.” Seungcheol reassures, pulling the arm taut.

Jihoon attempts to shove him away, but he’s just too weak. Seungcheol can feel the chill of him, fingertips pressed where the veins show through the skin. Where there should be a pulse but instead there's just...an absence.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Jihoon says, voice strangled and hoarse. He grunts, strains, tests his grip and Seungcheol holds him still. 

Seungcheol produces the Psuedo-Globin blood bag from next to him, unsheathing the needle cap with his teeth.

Jihoon watches him, quiet and still afraid as Seungcheol brings the needle up close to his pale skin.

“W— _wait_ —"

Seungcheol squeezes Jihoon’s arm when he tries to protest further, the movement makes him stiffen, and then slowly relax. “Just relax— _shhhh_.” He murmurs soothingly, sliding the needle easily into the vein at the bend of an elbow.

He lifts the bag up over his head, letting gravity do its thing and watching the dark, rich red liquid snake down the IV tubing.

Seungcheol knows when it starts to work, because there's a ragged indrawn breath, a sharply bitten off curse that sounds like relief. He can feel the creature shudder, the low vibrating groan that screams _'yes’_.

Seungcheol lets his fingers slide away after a minute and sets the blood bag down on the bed at Jihoon’s feet.

Jihoon immediately reaches for it—clutches the blood bag close, holding it like it might get taken away from him. Seungcheol pretends he doesn't notice the fine tremor in his shoulder, the wetness in his eyes.

Against his better judgement he makes himself comfortable on the bed next to his guest. He leans his back against the headboard, sticks a pillow behind his head and watches the level drop in the blood bag.

“It’s not the fresh stuff,” He says after a moment, gesturing vaguely at the bag of Pseudo-Globin. “Not how you guys like it, I know, but it will help _rejuvenate_ you.”

“I’ve never had fresh blood before.” Jihoon says, head tipped down, voice low like it's a secret.

It throws Seungcheol for a second. “Really? _Never_? When did you get turned?”

“Three months ago.” Jihoon says, propping his forearms on his knees, staring down at where his fingers clasp the bag tightly.

“What have you been eating since?” Seungcheol asks, narrowing his gaze.

The frown shows up slowly on Jihoon’s face. “Nothing solid in the last week. I’ve been surviving by raiding bloodbanks and hospitals, but I almost got caught. I tried just sticking to regular food for a bit, but then it started making me sick. I tried to feed on others, but I kept chickening out.” He finishes with a sigh.

He won't look at Seungcheol anymore, and Seungcheol lets him have his silence for a minute, because he thinks that's a lot for the guy to admit. There's something fascinating in the moral quandaries of…..people with morals. 

The Pseudo-Globin is definitely working now; a healthy colour is returning to Jihoon’s complexion. 

Seungcheol gives Jihoon a long look before he asks, “How’d you get turned?”

Jihoon grates out an exasperated sound. He shakes his head, untidy lines of hair falling forward over his eyes. “I don’t remember.”

Seungcheol digests that for a second. “Who turned you? Who’s your progenitor?”

“I—I don’t know.” Jihoon says. But it sounds uncertain, as if he doesn't really know what that means, and Seungcheol doesn't even know how to begin explaining that to him.

“Oh—fuck. You’ve got _so_ much to learn.” Seungcheol squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, running a hand across his face. “I’m guessing your conversion wasn’t— _consensual_.”

“I don’t remember.” Jihoon says again. His mouth goes down at the corner and there’s a growing chill in his demeanour that makes Seungcheol’s skin crawl. “But I don’t think so. I remember it hurt a lot.” He adds in a thready, traumatised sort of way.

Now that Seungcheol knows what to look for, he can see it. There's a series of long scrapes down Jihoon’s throat and dirt caught in the folds of torn skin. There's also a very clear bruise on the side of Jihoon’s neck closest to Seungcheol, broken blood vessels purpling the surface, the slight indentation of teeth.

Seungcheol is torn between wanting to kill someone and laughing at the unfairness of it all; consent wouldn’t have left a scar—it wouldn’t have been so painful. Sometimes, Seungcheol rather hates the world.

He must say that last bit out loud, because Jihoon nods and loops his arms around his knees, tucking his head between them. He looks even smaller suddenly. So small and so afraid.

Seungcheol sighs helplessly. He doesn't know what he wants more: to put his fist through a wall or to wrap Jihoon in his arms, a gesture he's fairly certain won't be appreciated. He feels like he should offer something though; some sort of condolence or attempt at contact—maybe an apology for the dickish, too forward approach he’s had so far. He isn't exactly the type for apologies, but he feels like he should attempt _some_ kind of comfort here. Or at least some words of wisdom. Though he knows that if there were words to fix this, he would have heard them somewhere after all the years he had spent dealing with loss.

For lack of anything else, he keeps his eyes locked on the small Vampire, as if the weight of his gaze can tramp down at least some of this guy’s pain.

“Are you going to report me?” Jihoon finally murmurs, brokenly.

“Eh, _no_. Why the hell would I do that?”

The vampire snaps his head up to look at him, and his eyes widen slightly in bewilderment. “Because I tried to feed on you, multiple times.” He says honestly, in one long rush.

Seungcheol surprises himself again. He takes a breath, then shifts and leans on Jihoon, just a fraction. He thinks it's supposed to be the world's most awkward shoulder nudge.

“Tried being the _operative_ word.” He says on the end of a laugh, because he can't stop replaying it in his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you. You suck at feeding anyway. Wait—no, that’s not right. You _can’t_ suck because you can’t even pierce the skin.”

Jihoon twitches, and Seungcheol knows he’s hit a nerve, that the vampire has taken that as an insult. When Seungcheol cuts his eyes sideways he finds Jihoon scowling at him. It's— _strangely_ comforting. And _maybe_ a little adorable.

“I wasn’t really trying.” Jihoon huffs, practically puffing his chest out with righteous indignation.

Seungcheol scoffs, because they both know that the vampire doesn’t have the balls, or more accurately— _the fangs_ —to back it up.

“Listen—you have baby fangs, Jihoon. In fact, I’ve already nicknamed you ‘Babyfangs’ because I took a peek at them when you were sleeping and they’re _so teeny_. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a vampire with such small fangs before. Most vampires I’ve seen have really gross fangs, all long and sharp and yellow. But I’m happy to say, yours are kinda cute.”

Jihoon’s ears flash red. Seungcheol didn’t know vampires were even _capable_ of blushing, but there you go. 

“It’s not my fault.” Jihoon huffs. He looks away, but Seungcheol can still tell he's scowling at the wall. “I tried sharpening them, but they wouldn’t get sharper.”

“You can’t _file_ your fangs,” Seungcheol groans in disbelief. He rubs his temple, tiredly. “They’re practically indestructible now. Impervious to damage. Even if you rip one off—it will grow back in no time. They’ll be that small for the rest of your vampire life.”

It’s Jihoon’s turn to scoff. “Isn’t that like an eternity or something?”

Seungcheol offers him a hangdog grin. “Yeah. So, good luck with that.”

Jihoon does huff real laughter then. It cracks a little, but it sounds right.

* * *

If it was difficult to get Jihoon to take some Pseudo-Globin, it’s doubly challenging to get him to leave the room. Seungcheol tries asking politely, he tries pleading, he even tries luring him out with some Reese’s Pieces placed in a trail leading out the door and down the corridor, but Jihoon doesn’t budge. He behaves strikingly, like a cagey feral cat, like anything beyond the walls of the bedroom is danger and Seungcheol is intent on leading him towards it. Eventually, Seungcheol gives up and heads into the living room himself, turns on the TV and waits him out.

Sure enough, half an hour later Jihoon comes shuffling in, chewing on the last of the Reese’s Pieces.

Unexpectedly, he’s dumbstruck by his surroundings. Maybe he was homeless before he was converted, because he looks around the house with wide eyes. Probably, Seungcheol thinks cynically, working out what to steal when Seungcheol inevitably passes out from exhaustion: the TV, laptop, sound-system, phone, Seungcheol’s pride and joy— _the microwave_.

 _Dammit_. It has never occurred to Seungcheol before just how many expensive items he keeps in his home.

He gives an awkward cough as he rises to his feet, “I got some spare clothes I can give you. Do you, um, do you want a shower before we eat?”

Jihoon doesn’t reply, just stares at the ground and fiddles with the torn sleeve of his t-shirt.

Seungcheol just decides for him in the end, because of course the guy wants a shower: he looks half-frozen and everything he’s wearing is caked in dirt.

Mechanically, he shows Jihoon the bathroom and explains the faulty thing about the shower, before handing him a few towels and a set of dry clothes.

When Jihoon emerges from the bathroom, Seungcheol’s strangely happy he’s taken up his offer of changing into Seungcheol’s clothes.

He’s a good deal younger than Seungcheol and built completely differently so he hasn’t even attempted the tracksuit bottoms. They obviously won’t fit. Seungcheol’s blue jumper however, hangs low off one shoulder and comes down to his milky thighs.

Not that Seungcheol is _looking_ at his thighs. Definitely not.

Jihoon must think he is though, because he drops his gaze, scrubs a hand awkwardly in his wet hair and says, “The pants kept falling down, even with the drawstring tied all the way. Sorry.”

“No—hey, It’s fine.” Seungcheol says, just stopping himself short from adding _—‘You have nice legs.’_

Leading Jihoon into the kitchen, he offers him a seat and pours him a glass of orange juice. He doesn't have a clue why—maybe cause it was either that or coffee, and the guy looks like he needs all the sleep he can get, so caffeine was automatically ruled out. It's just this weird disconnect that there's a visitor in the kitchen and he should be a polite host and offer something. Still, he's not quite sure why he _immediately_ decides on orange juice. But hey, Vitamin C is good for you, whether you're a baby vampire or not.

“Drink it.” Seungcheol says, handing him the glass, realising belatedly that it probably sounded non-optional, and probably rude. But after a moment of looking briefly confused, Jihoon begins to sip it anyway.

"So, what do you want for breakfast?" Seungcheol asks next, because he’s kind of hungry now. “I can rustle us up some toast and eggs and _bacon_.” He offers with an eyebrow waggle.

Jihoon gives him the weirdest look. It's a look Seungcheol's getting used to.

“C’mon. You must like bacon.” He scoffs. “Everyone loves bacon. Well, except a few major religions and vegetarians, but who cares what they think anyway?”

Jihoon shrugs tiredly, like he has a million other things he could be doing and yet he's grudgingly spending time in Seungcheol’s kitchen, involuntarily sharing his opinion on bacon.

"I think I should—" He begins hesitantly, looking around.

"—should have some bacon," Seungcheol finishes for him, which probably wasn't what Jihoon was going for there, but Seungcheol’s intent on feeding him something more substantial than chocolate covered peanut butter.

There's half a minute of tense silence. Seungcheol isn't sure why it's tense exactly. Was Jihoon a religious vegetarian before he was converted? Has Seungcheol offended him by offering bacon?

"Okay," Jihoon agrees reluctantly, and then breathes out, as if they'd been playing a tense poker game which Seungcheol had unexpectedly won by playing his ace in the hole— _bacon_.

Jihoon hoists himself up into a stool by the breakfast bar and watches as Seungcheol cooks bacon, toast and eggs.

Bacon, toast and eggs for _four._

Hey—he’s just being a good host, but when Seungcheol piles the vampire’s plate to the brim with six rashers of bacon, Jihoon gives him that weird, wide eyed look again. Seungcheol’s beginning to think it’s _awe_.

“You need to eat something.” Seungcheol clarifies, scraping butter over his toast. “Now that you’ve got the Pseudo-Globin in your system—you’ll be able to tolerate regular food. You need to build up your strength, otherwise you’ll just get your ass handed to you if you try and feed on me again.”

When Jihoon grins across the table, showing a glimmer of fang, Seungcheol smiles back warmly.

* * *

After a hearty breakfast, Seungcheol prepares himself to ask the _important_ questions.

He needs to find out where this guy is from, whether there’s anyone else who can help him, what his situation is, whether or not he’s on the run or perhaps _murdered_ anyone. But instead of asking any of those vital questions, he asks if Jihoon wants to watch TV. Because that’s how Seungcheol rolls, and most importantly, with the television on they don’t have to _talk_.

So they spend the afternoon lounging in front of the TV and _not_ talking, and occasionally Jihoon shoots Seungcheol a strange uncertain look, like he might be thinking of something to say, but then his eyes flicker back to the television. 

The yawning gap of unanswered questions opens up between them, and the clock ticks on towards the inevitable time when Seungcheol has to face up to the fact that he’s going to have to get ready for work soon—and he can’t leave Jihoon here.

Resigning himself, Seungcheol grabs the remote and kills the TV.

The silence drags out, and Seungcheol already knows what's coming, what's been hovering on the edge all day. 

“Listen, Jihoon. I hate to do this, but I need to go to work soon, and-“

“I can't stay here, I know.” Jihoon interjects quietly. He stares at Seungcheol, and for a moment he looks even more vulnerable than he did curled up in Seungcheol’s bed. 

Seungcheol’s heart goes out to him. “Are you going to be okay?”

The vampire smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "I'll be fine. I _am_ fine. _Better_ than fine."

Seungcheol thinks the fact that he's used the word 'fine' three times in one sentence might be suggesting the opposite.

“I wouldn’t advise you trying to feed in this neighbourhood. There’s a vampire neighbourhood watch _thingy_ that patrols at all hours. They don’t tolerate rampant feeding, so you _need_ to be careful.” Seungcheol says, feeling shocked at himself as soon as he says it.

“Okay. Uh—thanks.” Jihoon answers, almost as stunned as Seungcheol with the advice.

Seungcheol clears his throat. “Uhm, I do have something to give you though.” He says, getting up off the couch and heading down the corridor.

He grabs his wallet from his jacket pocket hanging in the hallway, intent on giving the guy some money to help him out, but when he pads back into the living room—Jihoon isn’t on the couch anymore. In fact, he’s nowhere to be found.

A quick check in the bedroom reveals his shoes are gone and he’s taken his dirty, torn clothes from the bathroom too.

Seungcheol sniffs the air—checking to see if the vampire is just hiding out of sight, but the only smell that greets his nostrils is his own.

Dammit.

* * *

Seungcheol spends a good portion of his shift trying to work out how to carry more than four bottles of coke at a time. Because, damn it, he hates making more than one trip when he’s staking shelves. He can carry two under his arms and one under his chin. Or he can carry one in each hand and two under his arms, every time he tries to combine the two techniques the bottles go rolling off, and he has to stop them with errant feet and he's pretty sure one of them is going to burst any moment. He could just go out back to fetch one of the L-shapes specifically designed for stacking, but now he’s challenged himself, he can’t seem to stop, and who knows what sort of life-changing situation he may face in the future that would require exactly _this_ kind of grocery juggling skill.

“Night shift is so _dull_. I don’t know how you do it. We’ve got six hours left and I’m bored to death already.” Wonwoo drones from behind the counter, where he’s been flipping through a magazine since his shift started two hours ago.

“I don’t see how you _can_ be, seeing as we still have out-of-stocks on the shelves.” Seungcheol says, crouching gargoyle-style among the bottles of cola, arms full. “You can help me if you’ve got nothing to do but stand around and finger the magazines. It’s not like we’re going to get any customers.”

Wonwoo turns his head and glares at him, opens his mouth to speak—only to snap it shut when he gets a good look at Seungcheol holding two bottles against his chest like a pair of missile boobs. 

One of the coke bottles slides down his chest, but Seungcheol manages to catch it under his wrist before it falls.

“I was considering you for employee of the month you know, but I don’t think you’ve pulled your weight enough to deserve it. I might have to give it to Mingyu again.” Seungcheol warns him.

Which, granted, may come out a little less determined than he hopes, because he's trying to hold a bottle of coke with his chin and mostly failing, and he's pretty sure he's partially unscrewed the one tucked under his arm, and everything is going to get very messy in a moment.

Wonwoo frowns pointedly in Seungcheol's direction, until he rolls his eyes and pretends to be bored with his magazine again.

Seungcheol finishes stocking the empty shelves and retakes his position behind the counter. Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s discarded his magazine and has opened a bag of M&M’s.

“You better pay for those—and the _magazine_. You treat this place like it’s voluntary work. You get _paid_ Wonu, you need to start acting like it.” Seungcheol says, grabbing the M&Ms and tipping a few out onto his palm.

He drops the packet on the counter, which crinkles and falls sideways. One of them rolls across the table. An orange one.

Picking it up, Seungcheol rolls it between his fingers thoughtfully.

“What do you know about the local vampire coven?” He finds himself asking, and he's not entirely sure why.

He and Wonwoo have been not-having this particular branch of conversation for years; it’s very carefully delineated no-man's land between them, much like discussions about politics and veganism, talk about Vampires is a subject they tend to steer clear of because they will inevitably argue.

So it’s not surprising that the question earns him a quick and curious glance from Wonwoo. “I know there _isn’t_ one. You should know that too Seungcheol. I think _you_ of all people would have noticed if there were vampires were sniffing about Lycan territory.”

“I don’t really keep up with that political shit.” Seungcheol says with a sigh, popping the sweet into his mouth and crunching down. “Besides, it’s just me out here, and I’m hardly a deterrent for them.”

Wonwoo makes a 'hmm' noise in his throat, as if he isn't entirely convinced.

“Don’t underestimate your repellent effect on them, Seungcheol. I personally find you very repelling, so imagine with their heightened sense of _everything_ , they can probably smell you half way across tow.” Wonwoo says.

He reaches over and steals the bag back, emptying what’s left on the counter. The M&Ms scatter, a riot of red, green and yellow—Seungcheol helps himself to all the red one’s before Wonwoo can even blink.

“Why are you asking about vampires anyway?” Wonwoo asks, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Seungcheol tucks the discarded magazine back into its place and shakes his head. “No reason. I just wanted to know what would happen if there was a stray vampire in the area. What would happen if it got caught.” He says, in what he hopes is an appropriately casual tone of voice. And yes, the irony isn’t lost on him that he’s asking about vampire welfare.

“They’d be euthanised. Or worse, _sold_ for research.” There’s a graceless jerk of shoulders, like Wonwoo doesn’t care either way. “People are less sympathetic about stray vampires then they are stray animals these days.”

Seungcheol ignores the twin stabs of anger and panic. 

“Classic humanity. Come across something they don’t understand and their first solution is to destroy it.” He huffs, failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Fuck—he was trying for uncaring but came across _defensive_.

“Since when do you care about what happened to...wait, have you _seen_ a stray?” Wonwoo asks, finger jabbed in Seungcheol’s direction. His expression is leaking alarm like a sieve, which is so annoying that Seungcheol decides to keep the part of him that might be—just a little bit—concerned for Jihoon's well-being to himself. Instead he makes an undecided noise, and goes back to eating Wonwoo’s stolen M&M’s.

“ _Seungcheol_ ,” Wonwoo says, obviously not dropping the topic. “You need to report strays—you realise that don’t you? I know you’re not big on following the rules, but Strays are a danger to themselves as much as anyone else. You _need_ to report them.” He adds, stressing the point, almost angrily.

Seungcheol’s happy he has too many M&M’s in his mouth to actually reply to that.

It’s a whole conversation that he really doesn't want to have right now, and definitely not with Wonwoo of all people. The guy’s always been overly paranoid about Supernatural stuff. He thinks he knows a lot because he reads up about it, but most of his information stems from blogs written by other humans that only seem to propagate the tacky, movie rip-off bullshit that Seungcheol can’t help but mock mercilessly. For a guy who claims to be a man of the world, Wonwoo’s never actually been in the _thick_ of it. He hasn’t seen what Seungcheol’s seen, and Seungcheol’s seen a helluva lot.

No one is innocent in their fucked up little world, but Jihoon’s far from being a threat.

Yeah, _okay_ , he did try and _feed_ on Seungcheol, but he was clearly desperate at the time, and actually quite timid and polite after. It’s not like he had elaborately _planned_ the whole thing. Like he was waiting for Seungcheol to finish work and followed him home or anything. Not even an older Vampire would be stupid enough to challenge a Lycan.

So, no, Jihoon’s not a threat. He’s just a little wet behind the ears; obviously struggling with his conversion and unable to compartmentalize. All he needs is guidance from someone suitably qualified and time to adapt. And maybe a nutritious meal every now and then, and somewhere safe to rest his head too. A dark corner somewhere, like a closet or something.

Seungcheol has plenty of dark closest in his house, come to think of it. He could easily…

Shutting the lid on that thought before it can take shape, Seungcheol returns to work, sternly reminding himself that his tenancy agreement carefully stipulates he is not allowed to keep pets. That probably extends to adopting baby vampire strays too.

* * *

Jihoon’s lingering in the darkness outside again when Seungcheol gets home from work a few nights later. Seungcheol picks up his scent from a mile away; thick and familiar and running shades of scared and unhappy.

He waits until he’s got the key twisting in the lock, before calling over his shoulder. “That you Babyfangs?”

There’s no answer but the scuffing of shoes on the pavement as someone shuffles closer.

Seungcheol breathes a sigh of relief when a spike of moonlight illuminates Jihoon’s face. Ridiculously, he spent a really long week worrying about Jihoon and looking outside his house for signs of him. He even contemplated leaving a bag of Reese’s Pieces on the doorstop before he talked himself out of it.

He should know better than to take in and feed a stray: they always come back. Next thing Seungcheol knows Jihoon will be bringing back other hurt and injured baby strays to his home. They’ll huddle outside waiting for him to get back from work, to let them inside and feed them. His bacon expenditure will go through the roof. He’ll become the neighbourhood cat lady—but with baby _vampires_.

 _Awesome_.

“Come back for another try?” Seungcheol asks as Jihoon steps out of the shadows to his left.

The small vampire shakes his head with a frown which may be just the slightest bit petulant. He looks healthier than their previous encounter; skin still alabaster but there’s hectic colour in his cheeks and frighteningly invasive eyes. He’s still wearing Seungcheol’s blue jumper; it’s the cleanest thing about him.

“So what are you here for?” Seungcheol asks, raising an eyebrow.

Jihoon doesn’t answer—he just clasps his hands in front of him, fingers twitching anxiously. Coming to Seungcheol must be his back-up plan, and that's funnier than it should be, probably. Seungcheol would probably call it trust, in another life. He'd thought he was too old and too cruel for things like that, but it seems his life has become a mess of beautiful and frustrating contradictions.

“You want to come in?” Seungcheol drawls.

Jihoon nods, a small pleased smile on his face.

Seungcheol chuckles and holds the door open, but Jihoon doesn’t move. “What? You waiting for an invitation?”

Jihoon stares between Seungcheol and the open doorway, then his shoulders move in an uncomfortable shrug. “I guess.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow and tries not to look too amused. He tries, and probably fails. “You know that ‘ _invitation’_ thing is probably bullshit. Like the garlic thing too. And that thing with the mirrors. There’s probably a lot you _think_ you know about being a vampire that isn’t true.”

Jihoon just blinks at him, and Seungcheol realises those little myths have gone over his head.

Jesus Somebodies Christ—he really _is_ a vampire newbie.

Shoving the door open wide, Seungcheol jerks his head roughly, “C’mon—get your ass in here. We can have a Q&A session after I get you something to eat.”

When Jihoon hesitates, Seungcheol encourages him through the door with a gentle hand on his back, because it's cold and morning is somewhere in the not too distant future, and he'd rather get inside where it's warm than pose theatrically on the steps. Thankfully Jihoon has finished being scared and confused and lets himself be gently pushed inside.

“Just so you know, you’re sleeping on the couch this time.”


	2. The Night Is Dark And Full Of Terrors

It’s been ages since Seungcheol’s had to stray out of his territory, but Jihoon’s coming over a lot more regularly now and the specific brand of Pseudo-Globin Seungcheol buys can only be found at the wholesale supermarket clear across town. Seungcheol shops there sporadically, and he hates the place with a passion. Stuck in the twentieth century, the store only accepts cash and doesn’t even do online sales. But it’s the only place where he can locally buy large quantities of Psuedo-Globin without unwanted questions and dubious looks.

Which is why, when he starts to run low, he makes the journey with freshly withdrawn cash and his carefully reviewed inventory list, feeling kinship with prehistoric Lycan that no doubt had to go to similar lengths for their bulk buying necessities.

Unfortunately for him, his shopping expedition this time takes twice as long, because the place seems to have had a refit since he was last here and everything isn’t where it’s _supposed_ to be.

He manages to track down half the items on his list, before getting lost between the canned goods aisle and preserves, searching for the Pseudo-Globin.

Accepting defeat, he approaches the shop assistant wearing a burgundy staff jacket too large for his frame. As Seungcheol gets within shoulder tapping distance, he’s surprised to realise that the guy is actually a vampire.

He almost laughs. It’s not every day you come across a vampire stacking shelves in a supermarket, but he supposes they have to make a living too.

“Excuse me,” Seungcheol begins, tapping the guy gently on the shoulder.

The shop assistant freezes in the process of stocking cereal boxes and snaps his head to the side. Seungcheol can see the flash of surprise in his eyes, catches the delicious whiff of terror coming off him the moment he realizes what Seungcheol _is_.

“Where did you move your Pseudo-” Before Seungcheol can finish speaking, the guy whirls around, throws his hands up in the air, and starts blabbering at Seungcheol with manic eyes.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, shit, shit!” The guy stammers, getting progressively shriller.

Seungcheol drops his voice and chances a stealthy look around, “Calm down.”

“Oh, God. No!”

“Calm down.”

The guy crumples to his knees, begging for his life at Seungcheol’s feet. “Please! No! Have mercy!”

“For fuck sake— _calm down.”_ Seungcheol says in a frantic whisper.

“Don’t hurt me! I just work here!”

“I wasn’t planning on it! Just get off the floor would you.” Seungcheol bites out. He tangles a hand in the collar of the guy’s uniform and lifts him onto his feet, holds him in place with a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Seungcheol soothes, giving the guys shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting him go. “I’m not hunting. I just wanted to know where you moved the Pseudo-Globin fridge. It used to be at the bottom of this aisle.” He gestures to the empty fridge unit.

The vampire’s pupils are still saucer wide, fearful, but they don't stay like that for long. Seungcheol can actually see him forcing his face into a more neutral expression. He straightens out is uniform and adjusts the gold name badge on his lapel identifying him as “Soonyoung.”

“I—I—it’s over by the chilled foods now. I can show you where it is.” Soonyoung says, his voice tinged with fear and deference.

“No. That’s fine. I know where that is. Thank you for your help.” Seungcheol says.

Soonyoung nods and then gives him the oddest look, like Seungcheol has done something strange and unexpected and he doesn't know what to do with it. Seungcheol isn't sure whether that's a good thing or not.

That’s the end of that—Seungcheol _hopes_ , as he pushes his shopping cart down the aisle and far away.

Turns out it’s only the _beginning_ of his awkward shopping experience.

Soonyoung follows him around the store, lurking around corners and peering at Seungcheol from behind displays with slit-eyed suspicion. He maintains a reasonable distance so that he can’t be accused of stalking, but he’s _definitely_ doing it. There's no mistaking the prickle on the back of Seungcheol's neck, which is distracting enough that he knocks over a display of canned peaches with his cart. And why the fuck is it always peaches? Why do they always leave peaches where innocent people can smash into them?

Sighing, Seungcheol scoops down to reassemble the tower of canned peaches. He’s used to assembling canned towers where he works, so he gets it done in no time. But when he straightens up again, he sees shifty vampire boy standing at the end of the aisle, looking like he might not agree with Seungcheol’s canned peach tower assembly methods.

It only takes one pointed look from Seungcheol to make Soonyoung scurry.

Which is grossly unfair, Seungcheol thinks.

Understandable, given the circumstances, but unfair.

Seungcheol isn't currently wanted for arrest, or even as a person of interest, and it's not like he screams 'Lycan' on sight—well, ok, he kind of does, but only if you know what to look for. But he hasn’t targeted vampires for years, so there's no reason for this guy to be hovering nervously in the distance, jumping out of the aisle when Seungcheol enters it, and documenting his every purchase with tiny critical eyes.

Something tells Seungcheol this vampire isn’t that much older than Jihoon in vampire years. Something about his fresh scent, or nervous disposition, or that fact that he keeps poking his head between the canned goods to _smile_ at him. 

Seriously, what’s up with this influx of baby vampires all of a sudden? And why are they all checking _him_ out?

If this one tries to follow him home, they’re going to have a problem.

Seungcheol resolves to ignore Soonyoung’s curiosity as best he can.

Ten minutes later, it’s still not working.

He can see the Soonyoung’s red jacket appear in the periphery of his vision as he searches through the Pseudo-Globin display. They’re completely out of the fortified variety Seungcheol prefers, and he debates about asking Soonyoung again and possibly sending him into cardiac arrest.

Or, you know, whatever the vampire equivalent of a heart attack is. Possibly kick start his heart into beating again or something?

_Oh, fuck it._

Seungcheol decides to approach Soonyoung again and ask him anyway, and the guy’s reaction is instantaneous: he ducks his head sharply, and lowers his eyes to the floor, pretends to be rearranging the shelves.

Seungcheol digs deep into his self-restraint to keep from rolling his eyes. 

“G-got what y-you’re L-looking for s-sir?” Soonyoung asks, not looking away from the shelf.

“Unfortunately, no.” Seungcheol sighs. “You seem to be out of the brand I like. The fortified with Vitamin B12 one.”

Soonyoung’s head snaps up sharply. “Oh god. I’m so sorry. We’re expecting a delivery tomorrow morning. I can set some stock aside for you if you like?” He sounds a bit hesitant, as if wary of making any promises

“It’s fine.” Seungcheol grits out before the guy can start panicking about that. “I’ll just take this for now.”

Seungcheol rolls his cart towards the checkout and starts unloading his stuff on the conveyor belt. There’s nobody manning the tills, but before he can start to get pissed off about that Shifty McShifterson jumps into the spot behind the counter. Or at least, he _oozes_ into it while Seungcheol’s not looking.

Soonyoung rings up Seungcheol’s groceries efficiently and even bags them, but when Seungcheol pulls out his wallet to pay, the vampire gasps in shock. He clearly can’t get his head around Seungcheol being a _real_ person with ID and money and stuff who wasn't literally raised by wolves in the forest. Or perhaps he wasn’t expecting Seungcheol to pay with money, but with the carcass of a dead animal.

Seungcheol wishes that trying to be normal every once in a while didn't feeling so exhausting.

“Thank you so much.” Soonyoung murmurs, accepting the folded bills graciously like Seungcheol has done something _amazing_ by paying for his own groceries.

As Seungcheol grabs his bags to leave, Soonyoung jerks his chin up and tries to fight down the quaver in his voice. “H-have a n-nice day s-sir. Thank y-you for shop-shopping with us.”

Seungcheol offers a wan smile in return.

Looks like he’s going to have to find a new place to shop. _Again_.

* * *

It's at the tail end of a particularly bad and long shift when Seungcheol misses the bus home.

He had spent a good half an hour helping Mingyu unload a late delivery, and by the time he’d clocked out and made it to his stop, the bus had already left. The next one is a good hour away, so now he’s stuck _walking_ home. But the world has obviously decided he hasn't been punished enough, and now it’s raining.

He pulls his hood up and hunches his shoulders against the drizzle of rain, though it doesn't help in the slightest; raindrops still fall through his hair and run down the back of his neck in hideously invasive trails. Wet _over_ his clothes and wet _under_ his clothes, after a few minutes it doesn't really matter anymore. He might as well start rolling around in puddles, because he doubts he’d look any different.

His shoes are making _squeak, squeak_ noises, though give it another mile or two and they'll be a ' _squelch_ ' somewhere in there too. He's not looking forward to the ' _squelch_ ' making an appearance.

Seungcheol doesn't have happy memories associated with being soaking wet. If he had known he was going to be walking in the rain, he'd have brought a hat, or a waterproof coat, and a lot more enthusiasm. As it is, he's running on empty and he's really not in the mood. Honestly, if somebody crosses his path right now and pisses him off—he might just eat them on principle.

When he makes it home, he’s feeling especially sorry for himself, but now he’s feeling guilty too because Jihoon’s curled up on his doorstep, obviously waiting for him. Seungcheol is momentarily taken aback to see how much smaller he looks, shoulders bowed, all folded in on himself in the rain.

He's made a habit of this: loitering in the alleyway, hovering outside the door, scratching quietly at the window like the neighbourhood stray cat. Turning up in Seungcheol’s space unannounced, though never unwelcome. The promise of shelter is there as long as Jihoon leaves when Seungcheol leaves for work, doesn’t tell anyone about their little arrangement, or tries to bring anyone with him.

They're both fine with that. And the weirdest thing is—the _Lycan_ in Seungcheol is fine with it too. Which is weird, but he guesses some things are worth making exceptions for.

“You’re late.” Jihoon grumbles through the rain as Seungcheol approaches.

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow at him, the rain ruins the effect somewhat by immediately plastering half his hair to his face.

“Hello to you too.” Seungcheol bumps him with an elbow and Jihoon briefly wobbles on the verge with all the grace of a penguin. He’s got no injuries that Seungcheol can see, but he could just be tired and hungry.

“Did you have a productive night? _Feed_ on anyone today?” Seungcheol asks.

Jihoon shakes his head.

“Are you sure?” Seungcheol says, with mock suspicion and Jihoon pulls a face like he knows he's being mocked.

“You know I can’t ass-hat.” 

Seungcheol grins, unexpectedly charmed by Jihoon’s abrasiveness tonight.

He fumbles for his keys, fumbling all the more when Jihoon presses closer to his side, shielding himself from the unending torrent by huddling against him. Seungcheol can't resist a smile, even if it does get him a mouthful of rainwater.

The minute they get inside, Seungcheol starts stripping off his soaking wet clothes in the hallway. No sense in drenching the rest of the house if he can avoid it. He stops when he reaches his boxers, still reasonably dry, and turns to find Jihoon standing quietly behind him dripping his own tiny puddle on the floor.

He doesn’t look to be following Seungcheol’s example, so Seungcheol helps him out.

Jihoon yelps in surprise when Seungcheol grabs the hem of his drenched jumper, yanking it up and off him and leaving Jihoon briefly spluttering protest and panic. “Hey!”

“You’re soaking wet, the clothes have to come off here so you don’t soak the rest of the house.” Seungcheol explains.

Jihoon acknowledges that with a vague _humph_ , already looking away as Seungcheol begins to work on his jeans, efficiently stripping away the belt, unbuttoning and unzipping. The damp fabric puddles on the floor around Jihoon’s feet and Seungcheol does his best to ignore the lack of underwear, the sight of Jihoon’s dick.

It shouldn’t be difficult, because he’s a Lycan and extreme nakedness after a transformation is standard. But it’s usually _his_ nakedness and not….not this milky, smooth, flawless _Vampire_ nakedness. So, he's not really prepared for sudden nudity in the hallway. Which is—okay, absolutely his own fault for stripping Jihoon down, but still….no underwear?

“I lost them.” Jihoon murmurs, as if reading Seungcheol’s mind.

Seungcheol gives him a look. “I’m not going to ask _how_.”

Jihoon laughs, tiny motes of nervous colour in his cheeks “Are you sure? It’s a very interesting story.” He whispers, and then he looks up at Seungcheol from underneath his eyelashes and smiles, an alluring curve of lips.

There is a brief tightening in Seungcheol’s groin.

This is not how he pictured this night turning out.

_Or was it…._

_Okay. Stop right there, brain!_

Seungcheol forces himself to remain still and keep his breathing even, not wanting to telegraph the sudden, perverse nosedive of his thoughts. “Go. Have a shower. I’ll bring you some spare clothes in a second.” He says, experiencing a damn hard time trying to keep his eyes on the Jihoon's face rather than have them travel south.

Nodding, Jihoon drifts off across the floorboards, which creak under his feet, leaving wet footprints as he goes. He pads into the bathroom, but for some reason, he leaves the door wide open; Seungcheol can hear the water running.

Perhaps it’s some kind of invitation to join…

_No. Jesus, brain. We talked about this!_

Shaking his head, Seungcheol picks up his own and Jihoon's clothes and throws them in the laundry hamper for later, then pulls out a couple of fluffy bath towels and lays the bathmat by the tub. There's nothing of his that fits Jihoon well, so that’s why he went clothes shopping earlier this week.

Yeah, he did that. He went clothes shopping for his stray baby vampire. So what?

It’s not much, okay: just a few smaller sized T-shirts, a few pairs of jeans, a jumper and some track pants. Seungcheol adds one of his own fleece hoodies to the pile and a pair of fluffy socks; there's not much he can do about underwear right now, and he doesn't think Jihoon would appreciate an offer to share, so he doesn't bother offering. But he makes a mental note to add underwear to his list of shopping for next time as he piles everything on the bathroom counter.

Turning to leave, he catches sight of Jihoon watching him through the gap in the shower curtain. Even through the steam, Seungcheol can see him just standing under the spray; narrow and angular, all spare muscles and slender hips; heated, pink skin making him look alive and almost human.

Christ, there are no words—no fucking words for how gorgeous he looks in that moment. It takes Seungcheol from interested to something that's closer to a bright, hard ache in seconds.

He’s unbelievably grateful for the presence of a shower curtain between them. If the curtain weren’t there, he may have done something stupid. Something Lycan’s definitely don’t go around doing to vampires. 

_Or do they?_

_Nope. No. Stop._

His brain has gone to that inappropriate place again.

Seungcheol knows he should just walk away, that would be the sensible and probably the polite thing to instead of just standing there and watching his guest shower. But for some reason his Lycan instincts compel him to stay put. He lets his gaze linger, heavy as a hand on Jihoon's skin, because he can, because it's always a good idea to keep a vampire off balance.

He can _see_ Jihoon fighting his reaction, but finally can't help squirming a little.

“You're staring.” Jihoon murmurs. There's a quiet, strangely heavy tone to the words. It makes Seungcheol think Jihoon means something more than the obvious.

“Hard not to. You're naked in my shower.” Seungcheol aims for flirtatious, but it comes out sounding awkward. He pushes on. “Towels are here, and some clothes. I didn’t know your size, so I just bought a few sizes smaller—”

Jihoon blinks water out of his eyes. “Wait, what? You bought me clothes?”

“No, not really.” Seungcheol frowns. Except yes, really. “I was just walking past a shop and I happened to notice they sold clothes and you need clothes, but you don’t have money, and I have money and clothes. And I don’t need more clothes, but you need clothes and--”

And OH GOD! This is the worst, most roundabout explanation he’s ever given in his fucking life!

“Thank you.” Jihoon thankfully interrupts. He says it so firmly, without a trace of sarcasm or tease, that Seungcheol loses his carefully casual front, and finds himself blushing.

“It’s nothing.” He finds his voice hoarse, and he clears his throat before continuing, “Finish up and I’ll make us something to eat, yeah?”

* * *

Seungcheol can hear the water turn off with a mighty whinge of pipes while he stands in the kitchen, busy making sandwiches, wondering if he should refrain from adding garlic mayo to the BLT he’s making. He’s still not sure if the ‘garlic’ aversion in vampires is real or a load of baloney.

Better keep it to the side, just in case.

He keeps one ear out for Jihoon's voice as he assembles the sandwiches, or alternately, the sound of Jihoon’s quiet footsteps on the floorboard, since Seungcheol is well-acquainted with Jihoon's silent nature, but there's nothing. When Seungcheol sticks his head around the kitchen cupboards he sees it's because Jihoon's stealthily made it to that unlit fireplace, and is peering at one of the pictures on the mantle.

“Is this your family?” Jihoon asks without looking away from the picture.

“Was.” Seungcheol corrects.

Jihoon snaps his head up, an apologetic look on his face that’s obviously assuming the worst.

Seungcheol tries to head it off before the inevitable apologies come spewing out.

“I know what you’re thinking, but it wasn’t like that. I don’t keep that picture around because I’m mourning them or anything, I just need a reminder that I did—” He trails off, not entirely sure how to put it into words that won’t make him sound like a complete _psychopath_. Almost twenty years clean and Seungcheol still locks up when he talks about his past. “It was a long time ago, and I’m over it.” He finishes awkwardly.

Jihoon’s face is pinched and grey, conflicting emotions written in the lines of his mouth.

Seungcheol doesn’t want to elaborate because even innocuous details of his life could lead to a dangerous verbal slip-up. And he doesn’t think Jihoon wants to hear maudlin stories about his life anyway.

“Come. Eat something.” Seungcheol ushers him away from the frame and into a stool by the kitchen island. He pulls out a defrosted Pseudo-Globin blood bag from the counter and cracks the seal.

Jihoon doesn’t take the Pseudo-Globin intravenously anymore. Now that he’s grown accustomed to the taste, he takes dainty sips of it out of a straw poked through the valve at the top. He still grimaces every now and then when he takes a particularly generous gulp, but most of the time he just looks like a kid with the world’s most grotesque Capri Sun.

He seems to prefer the taste and familiarity of normal food though, and tucks into his BLT after with ravenous enthusiasm. Seungcheol wonders how long that will last; vampires don’t really need to eat as long as they maintain a regular _liquid_ diet, but most of the newer converts still do. Clinging to old human feeding habits to feel normal again, he supposes.

Somewhere between his second and third bite, Jihoon seems to notice the lack of mayo in his sandwich and reaches for the jar.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Seungcheol warns, before Jihoon can open it.

Jihoon glances down at the jar in his hand, then back at Seungcheol beseechingly.

Seungcheol clears his throat awkwardly, “It’s just—it’s _garlic_ mayo, and I don’t want you to get sick in case it turns out it’s _poisonous_ to your species. So maybe err on the side of caution till we figure it out. Okay?”

Jihoon frowns but seems to take the suggestion on board and sets the jar down. Though it's clear he's still waiting for Seungcheol to dish out some sort of scientific explanation as to why vampires can’t have Garlic Mayo—complete with pie-charts and graphs and randomised clinical trials or something. Like he needs all the _reasons_ , and he’s positive Seungcheol has all the answers.

It occurs to Seungcheol then that maybe he’s not the best person to be teaching Jihoon the ways of his ‘people’. He’s kind of disturbed by the idea that anything he has to say about Vampirism might be taken as gospel, maybe fucking _literally_ , by the baby vampire on the other side of the table.

Seungcheol’s probably the least _qualified_ guy to give lessons on _that_ particular subject matter. Sure he knows more about Vampires than your average Joe, but most of his knowledge revolves around their weaknesses, their flaws as a species— _killing_ them. He doesn’t have a lot of first-hand knowledge about how to care for one.

You don’t exactly get to the top of the Supernatural food chain by looking out for the guy underneath you.

“You could try it—if you like,” Seungcheol continues, chewing around a mouth-full of bacon, lettuce and tomato. “I mean, a tiny amount probably won’t hurt, even if you were allergic to it, and I don’t know enough about Vampires to make those decisions for you. It’s probably something you want to figure out yourself.”

Jihoon shakes his head and takes another bit of his sandwich. “You know a lot more than I do. I’m happy to just follow your lead, oh _wise_ one.” He smirks around a mouthful of food.

Seungcheol blinks at him and ends up coughing laughter, almost chocking on his sandwich, because the thought of a baby vampire following him around, actually _learning_ from him is hilarious on too many levels.

“What do you do at night when I’m at work?” Seungcheol asks next, curious and perhaps a _little_ concerned. The evenings are longer and Jihoon stays inside during the day, but there are still eight or so hours when Seungcheol’s working the night shift where Jihoon drifts about on his own. Seungcheol has no idea what he gets up to.

“I go to the library.” Jihoon says, almost conversationally, and Seungcheol almost chokes again.

“The library?” he croaks. He takes a sip of juice to clear his throat. “Is that like—some hip, hot, new-age club that vampires hang out in or something?”

“ _No_.” Jihoon huffs, chasing a piece of lettuce round the crust. “It’s a big old building full of books. I go there to read.”

“Nerd.” Seungcheol blurts out before he can help himself.

Jihoon's brows knit into a scowl, and Seungcheol has to fight not to smile.

“Sorry, force of habit.” Seungcheol pauses long enough to demolish more of his sandwich. “I wasn’t very academically challenged growing up—I think I resent the pursuit of knowledge.”

“Explains why you work in a convenience store.” Jihoon says archly.

“Hey—that’s harsh.” Seungcheol can feel his mouth twisting into something offended. “I’ll have you know I’m shift leader in that store _and_ I’m due for a promotion soon.” He adjusts his elbows in the table and curves his shoulders inward, suddenly uncomfortable in his own skin. “And it’s the best job I could get considering my unusual circumstances.”

Jihoon blinks, suddenly seeming so shy and small. “What unusual circumstances?”

Seungcheol mentally scolds himself for that little slip.

He doesn’t really want to start explaining what he is to Jihoon, not yet anyway. He thinks Jihoon needs time to adjust to what _he_ is now, not to start learning about everything _else_ that’s out there.

“It’s nothing.” Seungcheol dismisses with a shake of his head.

Jihoon devours the last of his sandwich in silence, but there's a tension to his face when he’s finished, hands restless on the table as he watches Seungcheol eat, like he's trying to think of something to say.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, it was rude. There’s nothing wrong with you working in a convenience store. At least you _have_ a job, which is a lot more than I can say for myself.”

“Forget about it.” Seungcheol grunts as he chews, and he's surprised to realize he mostly means it. “I insulted you, you insulted me. We’re even. Let’s get back to the reason why you were in the library.”

Jihoon recovers enough to offer an attitude. “I told you, to _read_.”

“Nerd.” Seungcheol blurts out again and they both erupt into laughter.

And—ok, Jihoon snorts adorably when he giggles. That's a thing he actually does. 

Though now his face is completely blank, like he's prepared to deny all evidence that it did in fact happen. But it _happened_ because Seungcheol feels as though his mouth hasn't stretched this wide in ages. An atrophied muscle.

“Sorry, I can see we’re going to go in circles here.” Seungcheol snickers. “Maybe we should talk about something else.”

Jihoon’s sigh sounds very put upon, because he smiles tentatively when he says, “As nerdy as it may seem, I like the library. It’s quiet there, and clean. I feel safer in public places with lots of exits, and nobody pays any attention to me there, except….”

Seungcheol is honestly curious to know how Jihoon is going to finish that sentence.

“Except _who_?”

“The librarian there. He’s really nice. He gives me hot chocolate.” Jihoon says bashfully. Jesus—he’s even _blushing_ a little.

“ _I_ could give you hot chocolate!” Seungcheol tells him, and he isn't sure whether he imagined the slight tinge of jealousy to the statement. “Uhh—I mean, if you _wanted_ hot chocolate, there’s some in the cupboard. I’m sure there is. You—you don’t have to go to some _creep_ in the library for your hot chocolate needs.”

“He’s not a _creep_.” Jihoon pouts, “He’s a nice guy. He doesn’t mind that I don’t have an access card, or that my clothes are dirty, and he lets me sit on a little longer after closing time. He even asked me if I’ve got a place to stay the other day.”

Seungcheol feels a stab of what he knows full well is jealousy.

“What did you say?” He asks abruptly, bits of sandwich scattering across the table. Jihoon stares at a piece of lettuce that gets as far as the back of his hand before carefully tipping it off.

“I said I’ve got a place.” Jihoon answers plainly.

“ _Good_. Cause you do.” Seungcheol points out, grabbing a dishcloth to wipe down the table. “And that guy sounds weird if I’m being honest. Too friendly almost. Be careful around him, don’t let your guard down.” He adds, trying not to sound patronizing. He’s probably failing, but he’s been around longer than Jihoon can imagine. He's already made these mistakes. 

Jihoon rolls his eyes, “Why? Because he’s a librarian, and thus a giant nerd?”

“A little.” Seungcheol dips his head to the side, assessing. “But in my experience, people don’t usually help other people out without a reason.”

Jihoon looks some strange mixture of confused and offended. Then mostly confused and disappointed. Seungcheol knows how he feels, spend long enough around anyone and your opinion of humanity can't help but go down a little.

“Okay, so what’s your reason for helping me?” He asks, narrowing his eyes.

Oh. _Well_. Seungcheol really shot himself in the foot with that one. But that doesn't mean he can't hedge around the issue.

“I don’t know man, lots of reasons. Altruism, a little guilt, empathy, a weird sense of responsibility….” _Cause you’re small and cute and must be protected at all costs._

“Empathy?” Jihoon echoes.

Seungcheol takes a moment to choose his words, wanting to be truthful without sounding cloying. “I’ve been in your shoes before. Not that long ago in fact. On my own—nobody to turn to. Scared and alone—"

“I’m not _scared_.” Jihoon interjects gruffly.

Seungcheol lifts a placating palm. “My mistake. Of course, you’re not. I’m just saying, I get what you’re going through for the most part.”

Jihoon makes a non-committal noise in response, thinking that through. His mouth goes crooked and strange, and Seungcheol doesn't know what that expression is but it's _different_. Which is probably good.

They’re quiet for a beat until Jihoon tips his head back and yawns, shiny white, baby fangs glinting in the kitchen light. They’re hardly noticeable when Jihoon’s talking, though Seungcheol finds he’s looking out for little glimpses of them anyway. They’re so unique, yet so perfectly suited for Jihoon and his tiny face.

They almost make him look like a vampire kitten of sorts. Small, precious, baby fanged kitt….

“Stop it.” Jihoon says, as if Seungcheol’s mind has been broadcasting every ridiculous thought in it.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me with that dopey grin again.” Jihoon says, looking off to the side. “Like I’m some kind of—vampire baby kitten or something.”

“Pfft, I was not.” Seungcheol says, except where he most certainly _was_.

“Yeah, _right_.” There’s a hint of amusement in his words, then, the hint of a dimple on his face, and it suits him so fucking well Seungcheol can’t think of anything other than ways to _keep_ it there. 

“You want another sandwich before I pack this stuff away?” He asks, gesturing to the ingredients set out on the table.

Yawning again, Jihoon shakes his head. “I’m good, thanks,” He looks around the kitchen for a moment, like he doesn’t really know where he is, before asking quietly, “Could I lie down for a bit? On the couch? I’m not sleepy yet, but I’m tired from walking around all night.”

“Sure. Knock yourself out. You don’t ever have to ask.” Seungcheol grins as he packs everything back in the fridge.

Jihoon smiles, small and warm and almost shy as he stands. 

Seungcheol watches him move into the living room sluggishly, clearly combating a wave of postprandial lassitude after, what? A simple sandwich? He’d probably slip into a fucking coma when Seungcheol breaks out the big guns and makes him that Lasagne he was planning. He’s already got the recipe tacked to the fridge actually, waiting for the moment when it wouldn’t be weird to offer up his home cooking attempts to a Vampire.

Fact is—it’s probably _always_ going to be weird.

It’s weird enough that he’s letting anyone kip on his couch really, never mind a baby fucking vampire. Yet when he watches Jihoon curl up on the lumpy couch, pulling a blanket over his narrow shoulders, Seungcheol feels a degree of sympathy for the guy that runs deeper than his usual “That sounds like a you problem, not a me problem” philosophy.

Seungcheol takes up watch in front of the refrigerator, leaning one shoulder against it and crossing his arms in front of his chest. Jihoon looks peaceful enough, cocooned in the blanket, curled in on himself like a little kid. But just watching him for a bit, Seungcheol can tell that the guy’s not comfortable–at least not completely. Walking around all night, sleeping rough occasionally, it takes its toll on person’s body.

Jihoon needs a good bed to stretch out on, something that supports his spine better than a beaten-up old couch.

Seungcheol thinks of investing in one of those nifty sofa-beds. Or better yet—maybe converting the ample walk in closet he hardly makes use of into a little vampire _den_. He could easily fit a bed in there, and it’s completely dark with the door closed over, even during the day. A perfect, safe place for Jihoon to….

Oh, god. He can’t believe he’s actually considering asking Jihoon to move into his _closet_.

Leaning away from the fridge, Seungcheol opens the door and grabs the milk, wondering what exactly he's signed himself up for, and if he should be booking himself an appointment with a mental health professional.

* * *

Seungcheol pads into the living area about twenty minutes later, two hot chocolates in hand, topped with whipped cream and mini marshmallows for his mini vampire.

Jihoon’s curled up in one corner of the couch, and their eyes meet over the edge of the blanket he’s wrapped around himself.

“W-what’s that?” He asks, sitting up quickly, nose twitching in anticipation.

His Baby-Vampire senses must be tingling.

Snorting, Seungcheol steps closer and presses the mug into his hand. “Here.”

“Oh, oh wow.” Jihoon murmurs, accepting the steaming, frothy concoction from Seungcheol with something akin to a flush on his face.

Seungcheol tries not to look too triumphant. It’s not like he went out of his _way_ to make it or anything.

It’s just hot chocolate, with a few added spices he had in the cupboard: some aromatic cinnamon, warming nutmeg and a dash of vanilla extract. The whipped cream needed to be used up, and yes, _okay_ —he did whip out his trusty blowtorch to toast the mini marshmallows on top, but he’s been looking for an excuse to use that blowtorch for a while, so really—it wasn’t a bother at all.

He’s definitely not anticipating Jihoon’s reaction or anything. That would be _ridiculous_.

When Jihoon takes his first sip Seungcheol is almost _certain_ that he makes a small sound of satisfaction, and if he didn’t, well, Seungcheol will add one in anyway when he looks back on the moment.

“Wow, this is _really_ good hot chocolate” Jihoon notes, licking at the mountain of whipped cream shamelessly. Seungcheol doesn't bother trying not to stare.

“Thanks. I uh—turns out I didn’t have hot chocolate in the cupboards. But I had Nutella. Nutella hot chocolate is better.” Seungcheol grins.

“It is. It’s really good.” Jihoon encourages, taking another sip.

 _Good—_ Seungcheol mentally pats himself on the back— _Now let’s never speak of that man in the library and his hot chocolate again._

“You’re dopey smiling again.” Jihoon mumbles into the rim of his cup.

Seungcheol tries for the world's most nonchalant shrug. He suspects he looks like he's trying to dislocate his own shoulders. “Yeah, well—that’s cause you’ve got whipped cream on your nose.”

Jihoon frowns and wipes at his nose, tongue darting out to lick the smear of cream on his finger.

“Shut up.” He grumbles and now there's a half smile on his face, which is just over the line of genuine. It doesn't slip away the moment it appears either. Seungcheol thinks it suits him, he should dust it off more often.

“What have you been reading in the library?” Seungcheol asks, picking up the thread of their earlier conversation.

Jihoon picks a mini marshmallow off the top of his drink and pops it into his mouth. He nibbles on it as he speaks, “Vampires actually. I’m trying to learn more about— _me_.”

Seungcheol tilts an eyebrow at him and takes a sip of his drink. “Oh? And what have you learnt so far?”

“Nothing useful if I’m being honest. Most of the books are fictional and romanticize the gory details.”

Seungcheol chuckles and leans his chair back until he can kick his legs up on the coffee table. “So, you go to the library to read vampire romance novels and drink hot chocolate. I had no idea you were a middle-aged housewife.”

Jihoon ignores the tease and stares down into his cocoa as he says, “Well, I figured I should start somewhere. There are more factual resources available in the restricted section, but I don’t want to ask for access just yet. I’m trying _not_ to draw attention to myself.”

Seungcheol nods deeply in agreement, “That’s probably a good idea. _Remember what I told you_.”

“Don’t tell anyone I’m a baby stray. I know.” Jihoon lifts his mug and gulps down half of its contents. It must burn horribly on its way down, but Jihoon doesn’t acknowledge it with anything but a brief clearing of his throat. “But the other day, a vampire came into the library, and I thought, maybe if I could just _speak_ to them—"

“You didn’t!” Seungcheol asks, his voice coming out higher pitched than he means it to.

Jihoon shakes his head, rotates his mug in his hand and admits, “No, I left.” He pauses, pushes his lips together and deliberates something for a moment before he continues, “But I thought if I could just _talk_ with another vampire, ask them—"

“Don’t.” Seungcheol interjects and Jihoon flinches at the gravely tone.

Seungcheol sighs and sets his mug down. He reaches out a hand, decides it’s too early in the conversation for placating touches, and pulls it back. He folds his fingers together between his knees and clears his throat.

“I _know_ you’re curious, I would be too if I was in your position. But if I know anything about vampire culture, it’s that strays are considered dangerous. _Especially_ to other vampires. If one of them gets wind that you’re a stray, and you have no progenitor—it can get ugly.”

Jihoon must understand that, at least loosely, because he doesn’t argue the point. He looks down at his cocoa, swirls it gently in the cup as if it’s a fine wine.

“Okay.” He murmurs with a nod of acknowledgement. His eyes narrow as he tries to pull a thought from the back of his mind. “How _do_ you know so much about vampires?”

 _From killing them_ —Seungcheol doesn’t say, even though it would be the honest truth.

His lips twitch in thought, “Because I keep my eyes open. They’re everywhere now, in the open, holding down jobs. You’re bound to pick up on a few things here and there.”

Jihoon scrutinises him for a second longer, bright eyes narrowed thoughtfully, before he nods in acceptance.

Seungcheol wouldn’t say he enjoys deceiving people, but he does get a thrill out of maintaining his cover during unexpected encounters. At no point in the course of his nights with Jihoon did he give up any possibly compromising details about himself or what he is. Jihoon walks away most days knowing nothing about him besides his (not entirely accurate) name. That thought carves a small hollow in Seungcheol’s gut that feels a lot like disappointment.

But, it’s safer this way. Safer for both of them, _probably_.

* * *

Things continue like that for a few weeks, and it’s pleasant and mundane and, dare he say it— _fun_ even. Seungcheol stops questioning the wisdom of letting Jihoon into his life and just rolls with it, allows himself to relax around someone for the first time in— _what_ —decades?

Jesus, has it really been that long?

He does the math and _yeah_ , it has been a while. Over twenty years since he’s let his guard down, shared meals with someone in his own kitchen, chatted about everything and nothing in particular, has napped on the couch while a veritable stranger has tiptoed around him.

He could definitely get used to this—he thinks.

But inevitably, as with every other time he’s been careless enough to let his guard down, it all goes to _shit_.

* * *

Seungcheol is about to turn in for the night when there's a quiet but persistent knock at the front door. It's too late to be Jihoon; when he visits, he’s usually waiting at the doorstep when Seungcheol gets back from work, or arriving shortly after, and it’s not the tentative _tap-tap_ signal they practiced either, so Seungcheol’s senses are on high alert when he moves stealthily toward the entrance.

“Who is it?” Seungcheol asks, making sure he's well-clear if someone decides to blast through the door. It wouldn’t be the first time. He hasn’t survived this long by underestimating the people who’d like him dead.

“It's me, Jihoon,” comes the reply. The _let me in already_ is heavily implied in the tone.

It says a great deal about how far Seungcheol’s dropped his guard that his immediate reaction is one of joy, not of irritation. He unlocks and opens the door, muttering curses under his breath and sure enough, standing in the doorway is Jihoon.

Seungcheol takes the opportunity to look Jihoon over, cataloguing the cumulative effects of the past few days he’s been missing: the usual circles under his eyes, a fair bit of tension in his neck and shoulders. Nothing a few days in Seungcheol’s care won’t fix.

“Almost didn’t think you were coming tonight.” Seungcheol smirks.

Jihoon shrugs, a graceless jerk of shoulders. “I lost track of time.”

“Reading in the library I bet.” Seungcheol says, distracted by how strangely Jihoon’s behaving. Stranger than _usual_ anyway. He seems wary, anxious, fidgeting with something hidden behind his back. 

“What that’s you have behind your back?” Seungcheol asks.

“Nothing.” Jihoon answers, too loudly and too quickly, and Seungcheol raises an eyebrow.

Jihoon’s cheeks colour, which happens far more than Seungcheol would've expected from a vampire, but it's charming, like so many things about Jihoon. “It’s nothing. Honest.”

“ _Jihoon_.” Seungcheol says slowly.

When Jihoon sighs and pulls the item out from behind his back, it’s impossible for Seungcheol to keep the shock and disgust off his face. “Holy shit Jihoon—what the fuck!”

“Hey, don’t be like that. I just thought—” Jihoon begins to protest.

“No Jihoon. No. This is _wrong_. This is very bad. Bad baby vampire, _bad_. You _know_ how I feel about this—this— _sacrilege_. I can’t believe you would try and bring that into my home after I opened my arms to you.”

“Oh, c’mon. You’re being dramatic.” Jihoon’s voice wavers between annoyance and genuine offence.

Seungcheol crosses his arms over his chest. “I think I’m demonstrating the _correct_ level of drama considering the situation. This is just completely unacceptable. I’m disgusted. Have you no self-respect?”

Jihoon waves a hand impatiently. He doesn’t roll his eyes, but it’s clearly a near thing. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal! Not a big _deal?_ ” Seungcheol repeats, voice rising with incredulity. “It’s a _huge_ deal. There is no way I’m letting you bring _that_ in here. I will tolerate a lot of things Jihoon. A dead body, a baby vampire trying to feed on me, how you finish the toilet roll and never replace it, so I’m left in the lurch when I need it most. But young adult vampire fiction has no place in my home.” Seungcheol growls, pointing an accusing finger at the hardback copy of ‘Twilight’ Jihoon has in his hands.

Jihoon is still human enough to know he should look guilty then, and maybe he's trying. He looks...something? It seems to involve a lot of pouting.

“I just wanted to see if it had any useful information.” Jihoon protests softly, eyes cast down at the scuffed toes of his converse.

“Useful information? Are you _fucking_ kidding me?” Seungcheol stares at the apple on the cover and shakes his head. “Sparkly vampires and teenage love triangles, what could you _possibly_ learn from that?”

Jihoon scrubs a hand through his dark blond hair and shrugs. “I dunno. I was just winging it. I heard the books were better than the movies.”

Seungcheol shakes his head, “They’re both shit Jihoon. I can’t believe you were about to get indoctrinated by Stephanie Meyer. How much of that crap did you _read_? I need to know how much damage control I’ll have to do.”

“I haven’t started it yet.” Jihoon says hotly, and he's very clearly lying the filthy lies of a liar. Seungcheol can tell by the way he looks guilty, and confused, and like he's about to either make up some disgraceful new lie on the spot to cover himself.

Seungcheol just taps his foot on the floor and stares him into submission.

Jihoon drops his gaze, “Just the first three chapters.” He murmurs, scuffing his toe on the concrete.

Seungcheol shakes his head like a disappointed parent finding out their kid’s doing _drugs_. “I guess it could be worse. We’ll just have to wash that shit out of your head with some proper vampire action. I think I got Blade on DVD somewhere. Oh, and Underworld too. That’s decent vampire action right there.”

“ _Okay_.” Jihoon drawls. There's disappointment in that word, mixed with more than a little mockery.

Seungcheol waves him into the house with a hand. “Leave that book on the steps. Hopefully somebody will set it on fire while we’re inside.”

Jihoon lets out an angry breath through his nose. “I can’t _leave_ it out hear. It’s on loan from the library, I have to return it when I’m finished.”

“Fine.” Seungcheol heaves a reluctant sigh. He rubs the underside of his chin with his knuckles as he thinks. “Leave it inside by the front door. Then I’ll arrange for a priest to exorcize the house later or something.”

Jihoon makes a dismissive noise that tells him he's being an idiot. Seungcheol's too used to hearing that to still be genuinely annoyed by it.

“How did you get a library book out anyway?” Seungcheol asks, turning to walk back inside. “Don’t you need a library card for that?”

“The librarian let me take it.” Jihoon chirps, walking up the steps. “He said I could keep it for as long as I like, as long as I don’t damage it.”

Seungcheol pushes a short laugh out through his nose. “Oh, _that_ guy again. How nice of—.” He freezes, feeling an instinctive, fervent rush of protectiveness.

Something is not right about this.

Spinning, he grabs the book out of Jihoon’s hand, thumbs over the spine, feeling across the hard backing of the cover searching for bumps or indentations. He’s trying to peel off the picture cover to check the inner lining of the book, when Jihoon objects to it’s rough handling by snatching it out of his hand.

“Stop, you’re going to damage it!” He snipes, pulling the book away to inspect it.

“For your information, I was checking for bugs.” Seungcheol says defensively, because yes, there is perhaps a reason to be defensive here.

Jihoon blinks at him. “ _Bugs_?” He’s frowning now, clearly puzzled by Seungcheol’s reaction.

“Yeah, you know, tracing devices. _Trackers_.”

Jihoon’s expression couldn't be more unconcerned. It's a wonder, really, that he's lasted as long as he has. “It’s just a book, Seungcheol.”

“It might not be. I need to be sure. Hand it over.” Seungcheol tells him gruffly.

“No, you’ll wreck it.” Jihoon snaps, holding the book tightly against his chest.

“ _Jihoon_.” Seungcheol sighs, trying to convey with two syllables exactly how much he does not want to have this conversation right now. People are usually pretty good at picking up the subtleties in conversations and Seungcheol's still not used to having to wave them in Jihoon's face and then carefully explain them when he still doesn't get it.

“I promised the Librarian I’d bring it back in good condition. It’s just a book Seungcheol,” Jihoon repeats, “Why are you so paranoid?”

Seungcheol can’t say a thing in response that isn’t incriminating or confusing or—very possibly—paranoid.

“Either give me the book Jihoon or leave.” Seungcheol says. It's a rush of words, shaky with daring, but he can't stop them falling free. They're out of his mouth before they pass through his brain. Before he thinks about them at all.

There’s no hiding the hurt in Jihoon’s eyes when he looks up. For just a second, his expression goes naked, blunt pain in his bright eyes before he pointedly looks away. Seungcheol can see the walls going up around, within him. He has to say _something_ , now, before he loses his chance to say anything.

But Jihoon recovers before him. “Fine.” He says, voice emptied of all feeling.

Seungcheol’s chest constricts painfully. He leans closer, hoping to convey without words that he’s sorry, he doesn’t want this, that he’s been there and done that and that he’s being careful for a _very good reason._

“No, look—just listen to me,” Seungcheol begins, but Jihoon’s already taking a deliberate step away, bounding down the steps and disappearing into the darkness like vampire!Batman. Or just _Batman_ , because Batman is already pretty good symbolism for bats and vampires.

Seungcheol stalks back into the house, ignoring the tightening in his gut, because it's so utterly ridiculous.

He’s not going to rush out after a vampire, baby fangs or no.

* * *

Jihoon doesn’t come back that night, or the next.

Which is fine. Totally fine.

Seungcheol’s not going to worry, not going to pace the hallway listening out for a faint knock or an upended trash can, definitely not going to make flyers and start handing them out. Jihoon’s made his bed, so he can lie in it—which is a piss poor analogy that leaves a sour taste in Seungcheol’s mouth, because Jihoon doesn’t have a bed to make in the first place.

He has nowhere to go.

He’s out there, all alone, probably sleeping under a bridge or hiding in an abandoned subway station—reading _Twilight_.

That thought alone has Seungcheol dragging on his jacket and stepping out at 3am to circle the block and scent the air. He stays out till the sun rises, scanning the endless sea of buildings for something. _Anything_. A feeling that there's something hiding in the dark. Waiting for him.

Nothing calls out for him. But what he hears resonating deep inside his own head, disturbs him.

In days long past, when Seungcheol was still running wild, hunting regularly and close to out of control as he could get, he could smell a storm days before it hit, feel the minute shift of molecules the instant an enemy decided to turn and attack rather than flee. Those instincts have never left him; they've only sharpened with age, taking on an abnormal keenness, remarkable even for Lycan.

Those instincts are screaming at him now, telling him something is _wrong_. He excepts now that Jihoon’s absence echoes inside him with a desperate emptiness. It’s like a weird imbalance; a tilting of some cosmic part of him that, by its very nature, is supposed to stay level.

Seungcheol doesn’t know why _Jihoon_ of all people has triggered this in him—why now after a lifetime of happy independence does he acutely feel the shape of _this_ person’s absence.

What claim does Jihoon have on him anyway? None that Seungcheol can make sense of. He and Seungcheol are opposite poles; nothing in common, nothing to connect them. He isn't the answer for everything Seungcheol has lost, but somehow, is familiar and wanted just the same.

Which is, Seungcheol finds, all that really matters.

* * *

By the third day, it doesn’t surprise Seungcheol at all to come home from work to find a smeared bloody hand-print on the cracked open front window, and Jihoon, bleeding a massive puddle on his living room carpet.

"Jesus Christ, Jihoon—” Seungcheol croaks, taking the scene in with a crippling sort of panic. "—the carpet. My Landlord’s going to be so pissed."

Jihoon is pale and sputtering just as uselessly back at him, "'m sorry," He slurs, "I got shot. I didn’t know where else to go."

Seungcheol reaches him in an instant, drops to the floor and curls an arm around Jihoon’s shoulder. A rush of sense-memory hits him at the feel of Jihoon’s cool sweat-damp skin, the boneless, slumped line of his body.

"It's all right," he says, even though it's not. "It's all right. I got you. It’s going to be okay.”

He scoops the barely conscious vampire into his arms, lays him on the couch and hikes up his T-shirt, blood-wet and snagging against his skin.

Jihoon hisses in pain and by the time he gets the fabric out of the way, Seungcheol’s hands are smeared in red from trying to find the source of the blood. One bullet has apparently passed clean through Jihoon’s shoulder, while another has raked across his abdomen deeply enough to leave the flesh bloody and ragged.

Seungcheol has no idea whether that slug has passed through as well or if it’s still lodged inside him somewhere. Although, that shouldn’t matter—Jihoon’s body should have been able to heal over it or push it out by now. Vampires are able to regenerate almost as quickly as Lycans, unless…..

“ _Silver_!” Seungcheol gasps with realisation. “Who the _fuck_ shot you with a silver bullet?” He growls.

Surprisingly, Jihoon manages a small smile, reaching a blood smeared hand to cup his cheek.

“Should’ve listened to you.” He murmurs, dazed, before passing out.


	3. Vampires Will Never Hurt You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungcheol gets help for his baby stray

Seungcheol knows a losing hand when it is dealt, and in Jihoon's weakening breaths and the heavily stained towel pressed tight against his belly, he can see the writing on the wall.

It isn't something that makes him proud, but he is an infinitely practical guy, and he hasn't been around for so long by sticking his neck out for just anyone who asks for help. His rational mind is telling him trying to save Jihoon is a lost cause; time to cut his losses and drop Jihoon at the nearest emergency ward, keep his face turned from the CCTV feeds, or even make arrangement to dispose of a body; if Jihoon loses much more blood, nothing short of a miracle is going to help him anyway.

Something inside him protests the idea though, the dark voice in his head that he’s gone to great lengths to keep caged and quiet for over two decades. It's the Lycan inside of him, and it's pacing in its cell, clawing at the walls, howling for him to not give up.

_‘He’s ours, can’t you see? How could you forget? He returned to us, he belongs to us—you must save him again’_

Seungcheol hisses at it to keep quiet, he can’t think clearly with all this _noise_ inside his head, but the Lycan keeps rattling its cage, snarling at him, pleading with him to _do_ something.

Picking up the phone is a last-ditch effort, a Hail Mary, an all-in bet on a final, unpromising hand.

But it’s _Jihoon_. His baby vampire stray. 

Seungcheol won’t be able to live with himself if he doesn’t _try._

* * *

For all that Seungcheol knows people who operate consistently outside the realm of the usual nine-to-five, he only knows a very select few within life-saving distance who are actually willing to make calls to a Lycan’s house at 6am in the morning.

Thankfully, Yoon Jeonghan owes him a not inconsiderable favour. He’s no doctor of course, a fact that Jeonghan himself professes whenever Seungcheol ever happens to ask for advice, but he’s an _okay-ish_ vet, with an awful bedside manner and questionable morals.

So, perfect for the task at hand really.

Within twenty minutes of making the call, he arrives at Seungcheol’s front door, wearing a dark trench coat, a bowler hat and carrying one of those weird, antique portmanteau bags—like some weird homage to ‘The Exorcist’. If he’s trying to look inconspicuous, he’s spectacularly _failed_ , but Seungcheol’s too busy worrying about Jihoon to worry about whatever neighbour might be peeking through their curtains, and drags Jeonghan inside without preamble.

If Jeonghan is surprised by the sight of a Vampire bleeding out on Seungcheol’s couch, he doesn’t show it. He merely shrugs off his coat, rolls up his sleeves and orders Seungcheol to boil some water.

“To disinfect the wound? Really? I mean—we’re not in the dark ages anymore Jeonghan, don’t you have anti-bac for that kind of shit?” Seungcheol questions, scratching the back of his head.

Jeonghan stops sorting through the items in his bag to level him with a bored look, “It’s not for the wound, it’s for _me._ I need some coffee. I’ve just finished a 12-hour shift Seungcheol, I’m wrecked.”

Frowning, Seungcheol trudges into the kitchen to do as he’s told, figuring he could use the distraction anyway. But his coffee making efforts are soon abandoned when he hears a small, pained moan coming from the living room, and rushes in to find Jeonghan injecting Jihoon with several syringes of illicit looking substances.

“What is that stuff?” He asks, trying to get a better look while trying not to loom to close and block Jeonghan’s light.

“Do you _have_ to know?” Jeonghan asks, mumbling around the needle cap in his mouth. He sounds as curt and bristly as always, as if Seungcheol has interrupted him in the middle of life-saving surgery. 

Which, okay—maybe he has. But still, Seungcheol thinks he should know what’s going to be whizzing around his baby stray’s bloodstream.

“Yes—I do.”

Jeonghan spares him a look over his shoulder, before re-sheathing the needle and dropping it into a little yellow sharps box along with the others, “It’s just a little concoction of my own; a mixture of Heamto-quik and Procrit. It should increase the haemoglobin levels whilst slowing the blood flow by encouraging it to congeal a little. We usually use it in invasive surgery—to reduce the need for transfusions, but I find it works wonders when you slice open something you’re not meant to. The same principle applies for bullet wounds.” He pops open a compartment in his bag before thinking to add, “Its usefulness is purely hypothetical in this case of course. I’ve never treated a Vampire before.”

“But he’ll be okay, right? He can tolerate it?” Seungcheol says, trying to sound off-hand, like he couldn’t care less, but knowing full well he’s coming off like a concerned loved one looking for blind reassurance.

“It’s hard to say at this point,” Jeonghan says, in a hedging tone. His eyebrows are pinched as he rifles around in his bag for something; a pair of sterile latex gloves it seems. “When you called, I thought it was you that was injured. When you refused to be specific, I just brought the emergency bag I keep for epic disasters. Though I can see _now_ why you wouldn’t tell me what was wrong over the phone. I probably would have tried to talk my way out of it. I’m not big fan of vampires.”

Seungcheol knows that—he’s always found the hypocrisy a little amusing.

“I don’t get how you can be scared of Vampires and _not_ be scared of Lycans.” He snorts.

“Oh, I was plenty scared of Lycans too once.” Jeonghan laughs, snapping the gloves on over his hands, “But then I met _you_.”

Seungcheol’s mouth twists in annoyance. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Jeonghan shrugs, pulling out a suture kit from his bag, “I just figured that if the biggest and baddest wolf of them all was so sweet, the others couldn’t be that bad. And I was right. You’re still my worst patient.”

Seungcheol scoffs, loudly. Shit like that deserves the loudest, rudest scoffs.

“I’m not _sweet_.”

Jeonghan gives him knowing look over his shoulder. A look that seems to be flicking back and forth between him and the small Vampire passed on his couch. A look that says, _Oh yeah? What’s this all about then?’_

Before Seungcheol can spill out all the appropriate protests and explanations vying for dominance on this tip of his tongue, Jeonghan cuts in with, “Where’s my coffee?”

Growling, Seungcheol strides back into the kitchen to fetch Jeonghan his fucking coffee. Honestly, he suspects Jeonghan doesn’t even _want_ coffee right now, he’s just using it as an excuse to keep Seungcheol out of the room. No doubt he’s picked up on how angsty he is right now, and would rather not have him around while he starts poking Jihoon with sharp, pointy things.

And sure enough, when Seungcheol returns with Jeonghan’s coffee, he finds the man kneeling on the floor, muttering curses under his breath while he extracts the bullets and sews up the deep wound on Jihoon’s stomach.

It’s not a messy procedure per se, but it’s not pleasant to look at. Seungcheol’s definitely no stranger to the sight of blood, and he’s been on the giving _and_ receiving end of far worse injuries himself, but somehow it’s far harder to watch his baby stray going through it. Jihoon looks so small and pale lying there, body as slack as a ragdolls, that Seungcheol’s going half mad with the urge to bat Jeonghan away and carry Jihoon to safety.

He has no idea why he has this sudden and, frankly, crazy protective impulse, or where he’d even _take_ Jihoon that would be safer than here. But his Lycan side keeps butting in with stupidly unhelpful suggestions like— _‘We could take him to a cave! I nice, dark cave somewhere, deep in the forest! Just the two of us!’_ —which inevitably results in Seungcheol humming ‘Just the two of us’ by Grover Washington Jr under his breath until Jeonghan gives him a weird _look_.

Before long though, Jeonghan’s finishing off with a nice, neat row of stitches and swabbing over the area with iodine. He covers the stitching with a light bandage, for appearances sake, then he helps Seungcheol tuck Jihoon into his bed – since there’s vampire blood all over his couch—and hands him two vials of intravenous analgesics for when Jihoon wakes up.

 _If_ he wakes up.

“That should do for now.” Jeonghan tells him as they walk back into the living room and shut the door behind them. “The wound will knit over— _eventually_. _Your_ vampire has lost a lot of blood, and from what I could tell, he didn’t have a lot to lose in the first place.”

Seungcheol's not entirely sure how to take the whole 'your vampire' thing. Though Jeonghan sounds more amused than disapproving. And it's not like Seungcheol has been doing anything to make it not true, hovering silently at Jeonghan's shoulder as though Jihoon might, at any moment, wake up and want to hold his hand or something.

“I’ve got some Pseudo-Globin in the freezer.” Seungcheol says, pacing towards kitchen, anxiously running a hand over his forehead. “He’s had it intravenously before, I can-“

“Won’t be enough.” Jeonghan calls out, stilling him mid stride. He grabs an alcohol wipe out of his bag, cleans the blood of his hands as he speaks. “He needs the fresh stuff if he’s going to make a full recovery. That bullet was burning away at his insides and they’re going to need fresh blood to heal properly. If he doesn’t get it, he’ll get weaker and weaker and then— _you know_.”

Seungcheol pushes the thought far away. “Okay. Good to know. I guess I’ll, uhm….I’ll figure something out.”

Jeonghan flashes him a half smile and steps into the kitchen area, dropping the alcohol wipe in the trash. He crosses his arms and leans against the counter, staring at Seungcheol with fixed eyes.

Seungcheol is completely ignoring the way his face heats, because his body thinks it's hilarious to make sure he fails at looking innocent before he's even opened his mouth. Jeonghan's fascinated amusement just makes it worse.

“I’m not going to ask why you have a vampire passed out in your bed.” Jeonghan begins calmly, then juts his chin out. “No, wait— _yes I am._ Why do you have a vampire in your bed, Seungcheol? Why did you call me out at ass-o-clock in the morning to save the life of a species I was _pretty_ sure was your mortal enemy? Have you finally lost the plot?”

“He’s a _baby_ vampire.” Seungcheol argues, like that makes all the difference.

There's a curiously lifted eyebrow, as if he's going to have to do better than that.

Seungcheol scrubs both hands through his hair, leaves it sticking up in a million directions. “It wasn’t a consensual conversion, okay. He’s all alone. He doesn’t even know who his progenitor is.”

Jeonghan tips his head and hums at him, like Seungcheol has proven his point already.

“Fangtastic. Not only is he a baby vampire, he’s a _stray_. There’s _no way_ this could possibly go wrong. It’s not like there are laws against harbouring vampires without a progenitor.” Jeonghan says, stressing the point, almost angrily. Which is a whole conversation that Seungcheol really doesn't want to have.

“Look, I’m not paying you to ask me questions.” Seungcheol says, all frustrated bite and annoyance.

“You’re not paying me at all.” Jeonghan huffs, taken aback at Seungcheol’s brusque words. “I’m doing this cause I owe you one. And I wasn’t really asking questions. I was stating facts. You have a vampire—passed out in your bed. _Fact.”_

“What else was I supposed to do?” Seungcheol snaps.

Jeonghan laughs somewhat hysterically. “Uhm, how about—absolutely anything else instead of taking in a vampire stray?”

“He’s got _baby fangs.”_ Seungcheol says, as though this is explanation enough.

Apparently, it’s _not_ , because Jeonghan is levelling him the eyebrows of great confusion.

“He can’t feed. His fangs are too small to pierce the skin, so he comes over a few nights a week and I give him some Pseudo-Globin. That’s all.” Seungcheol explains. Then, because apparently he lives to contradict himself, adds, “And maybe sometimes I make him a sandwich and a hot chocolate while he uses the shower, and maybe then we hang around for a bit because it’s bright out, and just you know, watch TV or play Mario Kart together. And sometimes he falls asleep on the couch, and I tuck a blanket around his shoulders. But I swear that’s all!”

Jeonghan studies him quietly for a moment, eyes narrowing into a probing look.

“He doesn’t know what you are, does he?” He says, and the grin that comes with that is so very unnecessary.

Seungcheol holds an 'obviously' behind his teeth.

“Oh my god— _Seungcheol_.” Jeonghan makes a noise, some sort of choked laugh, which he immediately smothers. “I know you’re giving this whole ‘reformed’ lifestyle a go, but I didn’t think it would be to this Born-again werewolf degree.”

“He’s got _baby fangs.”_ Seungcheol repeats for emphasis. “He needs me—I mean, he needs my help.”

“ _Right_ ,” Jeonghan says doubtfully, then fishes for something in his pocket and pulls out the silver bullet he extracted. “ _Anyway_ —you have bigger problems to worry about than going soft in your old age. See this bullet I extracted—”

“It’s silver, I know.” Seungcheol interjects, bored.

“Not just that.” Jeonghan adds. “I’ve seen it before, look at the markings.”

Seungcheol steps closer, studying the bullet Jeonghan’s turning between his thumb and forefinger.

“It’s from a Starr 1858 Army revolver. They don’t just hand those out to anybody, and the bullets are custom made. They’re designed to leak molten silver on impact. I hope you _know_ what that means.”

Everything inside of Seungcheol goes tight and cold. “Yeah. A Hunter’s weapon of choice.”

Seungcheol's got a pretty varied vocabulary, especially for profanity, but there aren't enough curse words in the world—in _any_ language really—to convey just how much of a disaster this is. Considering that the Lycan hunters he's met so far have tended to be a bunch of shoot fast, don't question the gooey remains later, psychopaths—he's not looking forward to running into the vampire equivalent.

It's a safe bet that they're not going to be the definition of love and tolerance.

Jeonghan shifts until he can catch Seungcheol's eye again, like he thinks not talking directly at him will fail to get his point across. Like Seungcheol's not going to pay attention.

“This kid’s got a vampire hunter on his trail, Cheol. Maybe one, maybe _several_. You’re _going_ to have to get him out of here.”

“Why?” Seungcheol says instantly, without quite knowing why. The idea of letting Jihoon go makes his heart lurch.

“Uhm—Do you _want_ a hunter kicking down your door looking for him?”

“Wouldn’t this be the last place a hunter would look?” Seungcheol says, not missing a beat.

Jeonghan quirks a surprised brow at him. “Touché.”

He throws the bullet up in the air, catches it and sets it down on the counter. “I better go. He’ll be out for a few hours, so that should give you enough time to figure out _how_ you’ll get him a fresh feed.” Jeonghan says, pulling his bag off the couch, preparing to leave.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Seungcheol blurts out, stopping Jeonghan’s departure with dramatic hand waving. “You can’t go.”

Alarm slips across Jeonghan's face. “You’re not planning on feeding _me_ to him or something, are you?”

Seungcheol makes a face. “ _No_. I need you to stay with him while I go out. I don't want to leave him alone right now.”

Jeonghan feigns a concerned look, patting his pockets down. “I see. Let me just get my business card out that says I’m a babysitter.” He swipes a piece of card out of his pocket and waves it under Seungcheol’s nose. “Oh, look— _I’m not_.”

Seungcheol goes a little cross-eyed zoning in on the card. “That’s a _shopping_ list.”

Jeonghan waves a hand, in a dismissive sort of way. “That’s not the point!” he exclaims, voice sharp with exasperation. “The point is I don’t babysit vampires.”

Seungcheol doesn’t have a rebuttal for that except, “But he’s got _baby fangs!_ He’s harmless. The most he can do is hiss at you.”

When Jeonghan doesn’t not say anything more, only squints at him as if he is insane, Seungcheol goes on, “Hannie, I need to clear up a few things. I’ll only be gone a few hours and, I don’t want to leave him alone.”

“I don’t care— _wait_. What _things_?” asks Jeonghan, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he's got a pretty good idea what Seungcheol is thinking.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself about.” Seungcheol says stiffly. “I’m just going to be— _returning a book to the library.”_

Jeonghan rolls his eyes like he doesn't want to play 'I'm calling you on your bullshit' today and holds both hands up. “Okay, you said that in a really dark and murderous wolfy way, so I’m just going to go ahead and assume people are going to die. And honestly, I don’t want to be part of that.”

Seungcheol isn’t in the habit of begging, not from anyone, not for anything, but he does it now. For Jihoon.

"Please," he says, the word threatening to stick in his throat. “Somebody tried to kill him. I need to stop that from happening again. You know I wouldn’t do this unless I thought it was necessary.”

Jeonghan huffs, like Seungcheol's _always_ making him babysit supernatural species that might try and eat him. “Why do you care so much?” He asks Seungcheol, crossing his arms.

Seungcheol is silent for a long time, and he knows it’s a long time. He feels every second of it as he stares at the wall, at the sunlight washing over the clean white paint.

Jeonghan knows him though, he isn’t put off. He just quirks an eyebrow at him. Doesn’t bother to tap his foot. He’ll wait all day for an answer, blast him.

“I don’t know.” Seungcheol says with a shrug. “I can’t explain it. I just—I just _need_ to keep him safe.”

The irony doesn't escape him that only a few months ago he would have laughed if anyone had suggested he would ever care about such a thing. Clearly, back then, he'd been much more sensible

“Fine.” Jeonghan sighs, begrudgingly conciliatory. “But you owe me now.”

* * *

Seungcheol has long ago stopped counting the number of times he almost died, has stopped thinking about the number of lives he’s lived and the years that weigh on his psyche if not his body.

An occupational hazard, you might say.

Lycan and Vampires exists in a state of quasi-immortality, aged beyond what the lines on their faces show. Naturally, the longer they live the more their outlook on fatality becomes skewed; the primal fear of death is rendered numb, and their respect for life becomes perverted as the centuries pass and their mortal loved ones perish.

The majority of times Seungcheol has lost someone to the dictates of nature are too many to count, but each death has been as transitory as a shooting star, remarkable for only a flash of time. But now, with Jihoon, and him, and _them_ , it’s suddenly all different. Now the thought of a Vampire Hunter’s gun pressed to Jihoon’s head puts a cold sweat on his neck. Now the thought of him dying carries with it an unfamiliar taste of fear and regret.

A taste, Seungcheol discovers at the grand age of four hundred and fifty-six, sucks balls in a major way.

He doesn’t want Jihoon to feel fear, to _live_ with it. So he resolves to stop this from escalating anyway he can

It takes him a few hours to find what he’s looking for, but he finds it.

* * *

Seungcheol waits in the shadows outside the library, watching as the last of the visitors leave and the librarian locks up for the night and accepts a delivery.

Seungcheol looks at him closely then, inasmuch as he can from this distance. He had an image in his head of the sort of man he’d be up against. Because that's the type of thing you can't help.

You imagine people before you meet them and Seungcheol's met a lot of people; he knows better than most that you don't always get what you see, but that doesn't stop you from _expecting_ it. So he imagined the Librarian small, old, maybe even ferrety; _wrong_ in some way.

Wrong in a way you could _see_.

Maybe even in a way you could _smell_.

If he’s socialising with Hunter’s, he’d smell of blood, and poison and silver, all the way down to the bone.

But the Librarian isn't any of these things. He's almost exactly the opposite.

He's tall—almost as tall as Seungcheol, probably in his late twenties and he has smile dental hygienists would applaud. He actually smells quite pleasant and is kind of handsome—which for some insane reason, just makes Seungcheol want to kill him all the _more_.

How _dare_ handsome, young Librarians with stunning white smiles lure his baby vampire with hot chocolate and young adult vampire fiction.

After the man retreats inside, Seungcheol waits a few minutes before crossing the road.

The door handle turns to metallic dust in his hands as he wrenches it open and steps inside. He keeps his mind blank as he walks down the main aisle, listens to the rhythm of his footsteps echoing on the glossy tile and follows the only scent and echo of heat discernible in the ancient building.

He finds the librarian standing behind the main desk, scanning books.

The man looks up at the sound of his approaching footsteps and blinks in surprise.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir. We’re closed.”

Seungcheol forces himself to smile, imagining the Librarians’ neck in his hand—it would take only one movement—the press of his thumb into cartilage and bone, the satisfying snap as Seungcheol teaches him the true meaning of fear.

Instead, he keeps his body language open and deliberate. It wouldn't do to alert the man before the fun started.

“It’ll only take a sec. I just really wanted to find this book. I’ve searched everywhere for a copy and I hear this is the place to find it.”

The Librarian flashes a brilliant white smile.

“I guess I can spare a few minutes.” He says genially, checking his wristwatch. “What book were you looking for?”

Seungcheol sighs inwardly. “Twilight.”

The Librarian’s mouth tilts up in a knowing way, and Seungcheol wants to do something to wipe the smile off his face. He's just not quite sure what would be the most _satisfying_.

“Hmm—odd. You don’t strike me as the Vampire YA fiction kind of guy, but hey—we all have our vices.” The man chuckles, dusting his hands off on his jumper. “Which one in the series are you after?”

Seungcheol smiles a little, thin lipped and not pleasant at all. “Oh, uhm, I dunno, what’s the one where the librarian gets his face mauled off by the werewolf for hurting his baby vampire?”

The librarian opens his mouth, then closes it again and adjusts his glasses. “Erm, I don’t recall that ever happening in the Twilight saga.”

“Oh, really?” It takes Seungcheol the space between molecules to mutate, leap over the desk and reach the Librarians’ side of the counter. “Well maybe I’ll just write my own version, where it _does_ happen.”

The Librarian blinks up at Seungcheol like a new-born, eyes wide and disoriented for a long beat, and then terror blooms in his expression as his ham-handed brain catches up, does the math, comprehends the danger.

_“Oh my god!”_

Seungcheol watches the man scramble for the back exit, catches the delicious whiff of terror coming off him. In a blur, Seungcheol overtakes him, moves to stand in front of the door and blocking his retreat.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Seungcheol says, smile curling with casual malice, “I need you to help me pick out a book.”

He lunges, grabbing the Librarian by the scruff of the neck and hurling him across the room into a shelf, sending books flying.

 _That_ should have bruised a few ribs.

Or _broken_ a few.

More than a few actually.

Seungcheol forgets his own strength sometimes, because the man’s really struggling to get back up on his feet. 

Rolling his eyes Seungcheol surges forward, making his way across the debris until he’s standing over the twitching, groaning body on the floor.

He has no trouble lifting the guy up with one arm, slamming him into the wall; hard enough to knock plaster loose. The Librarian winces and groans, teeth clacking together and Seungcheol brings his other hand to curve round the man’s throat.

He knows he could crush it if he wanted to—squeeze tight until the blood stopped pumping. But the man’s no use to him dead. So, instead he settles for squeezing until the man’s eyes are bloodshot and bulging.

“I’m only going to ask once.” Seungcheol bites out, sharp teeth aching inside his mouth. “Who are you working for?”

“W-what?” The Librarian says, voice strangled and hoarse.

Seungcheol huffs a sigh and squeezes, counting to ten and watching the man’s legs kick out, fingers clawing at his jacket and shirt for reprieve. The only sound he's making is the hoarse, furious rasp-saw of his breathing.

Seungcheol loosens his grip on the man’s throat with some difficulty, leans in close till they’re nose to nose. “I _know_ you hurt my friend. But you’re clearly no hunter yourself, so you must have arranged for him to get shot—or you’re working with one.”

“I don’t know—"

Seungcheol squeezes the windpipe again, feels the gristle of fine cartilage under his finger-tips. “Don’t _lie_ to me. I can smell him on you. He’s a small, skittish baby vampire. Likes to come here and read books and drink hot chocolate. He said you were nice to him, that you let him stay past closing time, that you offered him _help_.”

The Librarian swallows, his face gone pale, and Seungcheol eyeballs him into remembering.

“Oh, oh yes. I know him.” He manages to choke out. “But I swear, I had nothing to do with it. I’m innocent. I just—” He trails off, lip trembling.

Seungcheol grits his teeth. He can feel the slow shift where his jaw is stretching to accommodate multiple rows of sharp canines.

“Just _what_?” He spits.

“I just told the local coven there might be a stray in the area!” The man says, breathing fast and short and fearful. His eyes are fixed on Seungcheol's mouth, on whatever Seungcheol's mouth has become.

“You did more than that, didn’t you?” Seungcheol snarls with too many teeth. He can feel his spine beginning to lengthen and bend, can see the bones in his hand reshaping where his claws extend. “You talked to him, you let him borrow books and made him hot chocolate. You made him _trust_ you.” He growls, furious heat bubbling up under his skin.

The Librarian shakes his head emphatically, makes an apologetic, nervous sort of noise. “I—I—I didn’t have a choice. He told me too. I had no idea he was going to hurt him, I swear.”

Seungcheol lifts him away from the wall, then slams him back into it again. “Who’s he?” he demands.

The Librarian takes too long to answer, so Seungcheol slams him again. There's blood and there's spit and Seungcheol feels an icy fury grip him by the stomach. "Tell me who he is, or I'll eat your fucking face off.”

The Librarian’s wheezing now, Seungcheol can see the blue veins engorged in his paper-thin throat.

“A hunter came around a few weeks ago. Asked me about him. I didn’t want to get involved but he told me I had a duty to help catch him. He told me to lure him somewhere, act as bait.”

Seungcheol tastes bile in his throat and stubbornly swallows against it “ _Bait_? He doesn’t want to _feed_ on anyone. He can’t even feed! He’s got tiny, baby fangs. He just wanted somewhere safe to read books and drink hot chocolate you son of a bitch.”

“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t think he’d get hurt. Just thought they’d catch him and tame him.”

Seungcheol barks out a laugh, or what's supposed to be a laugh. He’s still half wolfed out, so it doesn't sound amused or human at all.

“No, you _knew_. You knew he’d do more than that.” He stops, forces his anger back down. He has to work at it, he really has to fucking work before he carries on. “Who was it— _the hunter?_ What was his name?”

“I don’t know—he just flashed a badge. I don’t know his name.” The Librarian says, evenly enough that Seungcheol isn’t sure whether he’s lying or not.

He’d be too stupid to lie to Seungcheol at this point—that much is true.

Seungcheol sighs at him, jaw tight. “You’re useless.” He spits, and the Librarian flinches.

He releases the man, drops him to his feet and watches him curl up defensively against the wall. When Seungcheol shifts back and cracks his neck from side to side, there's a trembling heaviness to the man's shoulders, and Seungcheol knows that he's waiting for the final blow.

"Go," he tells the cowering man. "Run."

For a moment, the Librarian just blinks up at him, as if terror has rendered him too stupid to comprehend the words, but then his expression clears like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. Seungcheol knows that look: the moment of reprieve when Death is fended off.

The man scrambles to his feet and runs, tripping over his own feet in his haste to escape.

Seungcheol bides his time, tracking the man's progress down the corridor and out the back exit, the sound of his thundering heart ringing like music in his ears.

He waits long enough that the man will have begun to believe that he is free. That he is safe. Then Seungcheol overtakes him in the alleyway behind the library—and strikes before the guy knows what’s happening.

He moves like a vicious blur, cutting through the Librarian like a blade. Futile human shrieks echo of the walls, the intoxicating scent of terror thick in the closed space, blood everywhere, splashed on the pavement and smeared in Seungcheol's fur and soaking into his clothes.

This is one of the first things he'd learnt as a Lycan: never leave living witnesses. 


	4. Bloodletting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jihoon has his first feed.

When Seungcheol gets home after his ‘visit’ to the library, it’s almost dark again.

Jeonghan’s in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, one ankle crossed over the other. There’s a half-eaten bag of Oreo’s lying forlorn on the table but no tall glass of milk for dunking in sight, which suggests Jeonghan got bored enough to raid his cupboards, but not enough to make it worthwhile.

“Oh _goodie_ , you’re back, _And_ covered in blood— _awesome_.” Jeonghan winces, and then he scrubs his face with the back of his hand, his levity slipping away. “I’d ask what you did, but I’m sure I’ll hear all about it on the evening news.”

Seungcheol ignores him in favour of shucking off his blood-stained clothes and dumping them in the trash.

He’ll have to remember to burn them later. Then bury the ashes. _Then_ plant a few flowers over the burial site.

Honestly, killing people and getting away with it used to be _so_ much easier before forensics was invented. Not that it wasn't entirely worth it, not that he regretted a second of it, not that he'd do a damned thing differently…but now there’s always a risk that he’ll leave something incriminating behind.

It probably would have been easier to just _eat_ the Librarian—but does he really want to go down _that_ road again?

“How is he?” He asks Jeonghan, who has followed him into the bathroom, watching him wash the blood spatter off his neck.

“Awake and in the closet _.”_ Jeonghan informs him cheerfully.

Seungcheol can feel his brows ticking upward.

“And I’m not talking about repressed homosexuality,” Jeonghan continues with a sigh. “I literally mean he’s in the closet. He woke up, freaked out when he saw me, started hissing and then ran into the closet. I guess you weren’t kidding about him being a baby—he’s _genuinely_ harmless. Didn’t try and bite me or anything, just hissed and shied away when I poked him.”

It occurs to Seungcheol that Jeonghan maybe wasn't the best person to leave his baby vampire with.

He grabs a clean towel off the rack to dry his hands. “Did you at least manage to give him some Pseudo-Globin when you were _poking_ him?” He grunts, startled at the sharp challenge in his own voice.

Jeonghan hands him over a clean T-shirt as a conciliatory gesture, “ _No_. Didn’t you hear the part about all the _hissing_? He wouldn’t let me anywhere near him Cheol. He practically had a fit when I opened the closet door.”

Seungcheol shakes his head and pads back out into the living area. He grabs a bag of Pseud-Globin from the freezer, sets it out to defrost.

“I tried to lure him out with a packet of Oreos,” Jeonghan adds thoughtfully, following close behind, “But he just turned his nose up at them.” He sighs, defeated.

“Should’ve made him a sandwich. He likes bacon.” Seungcheol says, probably more fondly than he means to judging by the indulgent expression on Jeonghan’s face.

“Well, forgive me for not thinking of that.” Jeonghan argues dryly. “I don’t have a lot of experience babysitting vampires. Or babysitting in general, _actually.”_ He grumbles under his breath, then a little louder. “ _I’m a vet you know!”_

Seungcheol chuckles, and heads towards the bedroom door. “Thanks, Hannie. You can go.”

“Seungcheol, wait,” Jeonghan says, calling him back.

When Seungcheol turns to face him, he finds Jeonghan’s lips are pressed together in distaste, arms crossed stubbornly over his chest. He finally notices how fidgety Jeonghan is. How he keeps darting glances at the door.

“This was just a one off thing, _right?_ You’re not planning on taking _anymore_ people out to protect your vampire, are you?” His voice is rough, but there's more tense worry than genuine accusation there.

“No, of course not.” Seungcheol smiles tightly. He's pretty sure even priests and small children wouldn't believe him with that tone, so Jeonghan’s certainly not fooled.

“ _Seungcheol_.”

Seungcheol sighs and waves a hand, "I’ve got it under control Hannie. It’ll be fine."

It's not exactly the truth, but it's closer than Seungcheol would've thought a few hours ago.

That seems to be good enough for Jeonghan, who claps him on the back before leaving, a tacit kind of understanding between them.

* * *

Seungcheol knocks gently on the closet door, but when all he gets is an unhappy mew in answer, he yanks it open. It swings wide and a shaft of light from the bedroom cuts through the shadows, illuminating the small vampire huddled under some jackets in the far corner.

Even though Jihoon’s hissing like the world’s most pissed off cat, he looks so _vulnerable_. He’s trembling, crouched against the wall in rumpled sleep pants and a threadbare t-shirt, his feet bare, hair sticking up in all directions. 

When he sees it’s _Seungcheol_ at the door, he relaxes so quickly, it's like seeing water wash away sand.

“Hey, Jihoonie.” Seungcheol calls out softly.

Jihoon’s answering voice comes out sounding shaky and relieved, _“Ch—cheol.”_

He tries to stand up, and groans, because it very obviously hurts to move. Seungcheol carefully helps him to his feet and pulls his shirt up to check his wound hasn’t bled through. Jihoon makes unhappy noises the entire time but doesn’t protest otherwise, weak enough that he doesn’t back away from the supporting arm Seungcheol puts around his waist.

“I’m sorry I left you,” Seungcheol says, fingers brushing over Jihoon’s bare skin in a hungry caress before rubbing over the curve of his hipbone where the loose cotton pants he’s wearing have slipped low. “But I needed to take care of a few things and Jeonghan’s a good guy, even if he isn’t exactly stellar company.”

“He poked me.” Jihoon chokes out.

“I know, I know—” Seungcheol murmurs soothingly, urging Jihoon out of the dim closet with a gentle pressure from the hand on his side. “Like I said, not stellar company, and Vampires are kind of new territory for him.”

By the time they’ve reached the frame of the doorway, Jihoon’s legs are trembling. 

“M’sorry," Jihoon slurs, swaying a little as Seungcheol pulls him close, gripping the front of Seungcheol’s shirt. “I messed up your couch.”

Seungcheol put his arms up and around Jihoon’s back to support him, and feels Jihoon shaking under his hands, with fatigue and something else, something that is probably fear. Seungcheol realizes that he should have stayed with him, made sure he was here when Jihoon woke up, so he didn’t have to panic at the sight of an unfamiliar face.

He doesn't care how it looks. Doesn’t care about the weight of history between their species or if Dracula himself emerges to shake his fist at them. He puts his arms around Jihoon and hugs him, hard.

Jihoon takes a second to get with the program, but when he does it takes Seungcheol by surprise. There are hands touching his shoulder blades and Jihoon's hugging him back with an intensity that makes Seungcheol thinks he _needs_ this.

“I was so scared, Cheol.” Jihoon whispers against Seungcheol's shoulder. “The guy from the library offered to bring me to people that would help, he said there were other _vampires_ just like me that I could meet. So, I followed him and then when we got there, this big, ugly guy came out of nowhere and _—s-shot me._ I told him I wasn’t going to hurt anyone, b-but he s-shot me a-again.”

Jihoon makes a strangled kind of noise and presses in closer, like he's trying to get under Seungcheol's skin, and Seungcheol tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, kisses his temple, the top of his head. He does it without thinking, pure impulse, just wanting to comfort and reassure.

“It hurt so bad.” Jihoon finally continues, voice ragged and stifled against Seungcheol’s chest. “I could feel my insides burning, but I couldn’t touch the bullet. I rolled into one of the sewers and managed to escape. I don’t think he followed me—But I can’t be--”

“I’ve got you now.” Seungcheol says firmly, when Jihoon is gasping against him and those thin-strong fingers are clasped around his shoulders. “It’s okay. They’re not going to hurt you again.” He says more softly, and feels Jihoon relax a fraction though the effect on his breathing is lukewarm.

"I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” Jihoon chokes out finally, when his breathing has evened out.

"Jihoon, it doesn't matter."

Seungcheol means for it to sound normal, reassuring even, but when he takes a breath to tell Jihoon exactly how much none of that matters, he feels his senses go off-line for a second with how fucking _good_ Jihoon smells.

Most vampires smell only of old blood and wind and dirt, but in the close press of their bodies, it’s impossible to ignore that Jihoon has retained his human scent, vanilla and cedar and fucking _sunshine._

It's all Seungcheol can do not to bury his face in Jihoon's neck and groan, and the rest of him wants to do— _oh so much more than that._

He starts to pull back, but Jihoon's having none of it. He makes a sorrowful sound against Seungcheol's shoulder, loops his arms around his neck and clings.

Seungcheol clumsily holds him back and— _oh fuck_ —his scent intensifies.

Seungcheol's always suspected his sense of smell would be his undoing, and this feels like glorious torture, feeling Jihoon, _smelling_ him, the heat of arousal starting to claw at Seungcheol's belly. The edge of instinctive violence that Seungcheol feels around him, to dominate and mount, itches at the base of his spine.

The Lycan in him wants to prove that he’s stronger, smarter, faster; to make Jihoon accept it, and then stuff himself so far up that pert little body...

"Jihoon, _please_." It comes out guttural and heavy with want so obvious even Jihoon must notice. Seungcheol tries again to extricate himself, both of them, from a situation that's rapidly getting out of hand.

Jihoon lets him go this time, lets Seungcheol put some space between them though it’s not fucking enough. Ten blocks wouldn’t be enough distance when Jihoon smells like that, and looks like this, and blinks up at him with big, wet, red-rimmed eyes.

“How—how are you feeling?” Seungcheol stammers, trying to find something, _anything_ to distract himself from the scent invading his head.

Jihoon ignores the question and just stares at him, as if he's trying to read something in Seungcheol's face. But judging by the frustrated little crease between his eyebrows he doesn't find it.

“You’re weird.” Jihoon says quietly. Which is a subject change out of absolutely nowhere, and it immediately leaves Seungcheol confused and wary.

“I—what?”

Jihoon’s face gets a pinched look of pain that Seungcheol suspects means whatever pain relief Jeonghan gave him might be wearing off a little.

"I thought you were just being stupidly paranoid before, but I understand now. I know why.” Jihoon murmurs, stepping closer and taking Seungcheol’s larger hand with his small one almost unthinkingly.

“You do?” Seungcheol says, mouth dry, and there's a shiver of unease making its way through him.

Jihoon pulls a face, sticking his bottom lip out a little. “Yeah—like you said before, people don’t help others for no reason. Except _you_ , cause you’re _weird_.” He returns, his tone both mocking and kind, blurred at the edges with exhaustion too real to be faked. 

Relieved he hasn’t been found out, Seungcheol laughs, feeling strangely light in the chest area. “C’mon, let’s get you something to eat.”

* * *

Two packs of Pseudoglobin later and Jihoon _still_ doesn’t look right.

Seungcheol watches him nibble on a poppy-seed bagel, looking listless. Elbows propped on the pallid Formica, little black dots on his fingertips, deep black rings lining his eyes. His skin’s paler than Seungcheol is used to, and there’s the tiniest streak of blood on the stretch of fabric over his waist, but it’s enough for Seungcheol to know the wound beneath is _not_ healing well.

Seungcheol doesn't actually know how much vampires can heal themselves before it starts to be too much. Before their bodies just _can't_ anymore. He knows Lycan’s have a limit, but he’s never seen one reach it and survive, and it doesn’t bare thinking about Jihoon dying on him now after all this.

“Jihoon—don’t you want some cream cheese on that?” Seungcheol offers, gesturing at the bagel.

“Huh?” Jihoon blinks, staring through the centre of his bagel as if there is a more satisfactory answer hidden there. “Yeah, sure.” He comments sleepily. His replacement painkillers must be sinking in.

Seungcheol plucks the bagel from his hand and starts spreading cream cheese on it while thoughts pound the inside of his skull like tiny fists. Jeonghan was right; Jihoon isn’t going to get any better filling up on the synthesized shit. He needs fresh blood and fast.

He assesses his options. He could go to a blood bank, purchase a few bags—but he’ll need his ID for that and that in itself opens up the risk of being traced. He _could_ go out and hunt, drain a poor soul nobody would miss, but accepts that that’ll take too much time, and he really can’t afford to leave Jihoon alone now.

There really _is_ no other option. He’ll have to…

Seungcheol’s stomach is jerking like madness, protesting the idea he's just had. Protesting his belief that it's pretty much the only option he has left.

But he’s desperate, he's so fucking desperate and all out of ideas.

* * *

“Hear me out.” Seungcheol says, turning the television onto something mindless and casually drawing a sharp kitchen knife out of the drawer.

Because Jihoon is awesome he doesn't immediately ask why Seungcheol’s standing shirtless in the middle of the living room brandishing a kitchen knife. Though he looks as if he's thinking about it.

In the end he seems to decide Seungcheol knows what he's doing, because he's willing to let Seungcheol run with things that might look a little stupid to start with, _unlike some people._

“I’m going to cut myself, and you’re going to feed off me. But you can’t get used to it. Only take what you need.” Seungcheol says. His words are steady, but his mind is still reeling, spilling out reassurances he has no way of knowing are true.

_This is Jihoon. Jihoon needs to feed. Jihoon won’t try and drain him._

Jihoon recoils then, almost sliding off the couch in his haste to back away. “No. No—I can’t. No way.” He shakes his head, voice harsh and panicked. He makes a gesture which means nothing but there's a vague desperation to it.

Seungcheol has an urge to tell him to stop being a baby, but the impulse stills on his tongue. This is new for him, it's only natural for him to be wary.

“Yes, you can. You _have_ to.” Seungcheol says, as flatly as he can manage. Though there's a catch in his voice. He tells himself it's adrenaline, it's stupid reckless insanity.

Jihoon draws in his legs, resting his chin on one flannelled knee. “I don’t know how. I—I can’t.” his voice trails off on some sort of quiet hysterical noise that Seungcheol suspects might very well end up turning into actual hysteria if he’s not careful.

Flipping the blade to grasp the handle upside down, Seungcheol bends over till they’re eye to eye. “Listen to me Jihoon, you are dying. Do you understand that? You might not remember a lot about dying _before_ , and you might not think Vampires _can_ die, but they can.”

He watches Jihoon’s mouth press into a thin, unhappy line, then quietly continues. “You need fresh blood to heal and this is the only way you can get it safely, so you need to work with me and do what I say. Trust me on this.”

“What if I can’t stop?” murmurs Jihoon, after Seungcheol has counted out two chilly minutes of silence.

“You will, don’t worry.” Seungcheol murmurs, reaching out to stroke Jihoon’s hair, still loosely clasping the knife in the opposite hand. “I’ve got it under control, and I’ll stop you if I have to.”

Tentative understanding sparks in Jihoon’s eyes and he nods once, slowly.

Seungcheol exhales something like relief and claps him on the shoulder. “Scoot over—I need to get comfortable.”

He sinks into the couch space next to Jihoon and makes an incision just above his collar; thin enough for a steady flow, deep enough so his body doesn’t try and heal it immediately. He barely registers the slice of skin, but beside him Jihoon draws a sharp, hissing breath, palms pressing flat to the cushions.

“Oh—fuck, _Cheol_.”

“It’s okay, come here.” Seungcheol says softly, watching the vulnerable dip of Jihoon’s throat as he swallows.

Jihoon goes without a flicker of protest, eyes shiny and liquid. And then he’s sitting astride Seungcheol’s lap, fingers curing over his shoulders.

Jihoon stares for an age, mouth opening and shutting in a series of unasked questions. Eventually he manages to say, “So, do I just— _lick_ it?”

“Yeah. Or you could _suck_ it.” Seungcheol offers, quirking an eyebrow. It comes out sounding like innuendo, and Seungcheol can’t decide if it’s on purpose. Innuendo always slips out of him like breathing, and there’s never been a reason to learn how to recognize when it’s intentional.

Jihoon laughs: a lovely, sparkling sound that—if Seungcheol is going to be completely honest with himself, and why wouldn’t he be—makes him want to do unspeakably filthy things to him.

“Should I use my fangs, bite down a little? Get a better flow.” Jihoon asks. Which is kind of surprising and proactive of him.

Seungcheol gives him a slow nod. “Sure—whatever you like.”

“What if I switch it up? Some biting, licking _and_ sucking. Would _that_ be okay?” There's a polite sort of curiosity to Jihoon's voice, that says he really wants to know.

Seungcheol blinks at the far wall and almost forgets what they’re talking about for a second. But it seems to involve his body getting confused about what exactly the ultimate goal of this entire exercise is. He thinks his dick would appreciate it if they were both less vague with their vocabulary choices.

“Yeah, that…that sounds fine.” He croaks, throat gone dry.

Jihoon’s eyes are flat black when he leans in, nostrils flaring at the scent of fresh blood. Seungcheol watches his mouth open, the wet, bright shine of his fangs, feels the coolness when Jihoon's breath shivers out over his neck.

Seungcheol can feel the wet slide of blood there, can feel when Jihoon flattens his tongue against it. Testing. Uncertain. But then Jihoon licks, spreading the flash of red up to the cut, leaving a shining streak of pink.

Seungcheol listens to the hitch and catch in Jihoon's throat as he tastes the blood’s freshness, then there’s warm fingers sliding up his throat, and a quiet growl as Jihoon _finally_ sinks his teeth in and sucks.

Seungcheol’s world goes warm at the edges, throbs like someone has shoved a hand inside his chest, taken hold of his heart and squeezed. It’s not painful, not supposed to be anyway—but it’s definitely _weird_.

The warmth soon turns to heat, _twists_. It's like being burned alive, like fire in the blood and he can feel it all the way through him. His chest aches, but his skin's prickling under what feels like a thousand tiny electric shocks.

He shifts ever so slight, so that Jihoon is draped more comfortably against him, and taps a slow, calming pattern where his hands rest on Jihoon’s waist.

For a while Jihoon feeds desperately, mouth moving hungrily over Seungcheol’s throat, clawing at Seungcheol's shoulders, sucking in mute, helpless ways against his skin. Seungcheol can hear the way every exhale through his nose is slightly louder than the one before, the way he’s gulping down air as he drinks. 

Seungcheol’s other hand settles on the back of Jihoon’s head, firmly holding it in place.

“Shhh. Slow down, _relax_. If you drink too fast, you’ll get trapped wind and I’ll have to _burp_ you or something.” He says, letting his voice colour with the slightest hint of teasing.

He can feel Jihoon scowl against his neck, but the vampire _does_ slow down and Seungcheol strokes his back, feeling the urgency and tension shake free of him.

Seungcheol sits there and lets Jihoon do his thing, and it's easier than he'd thought it would be. He'd thought his body would rebel against it somehow. But aside from the restless tapping of his fingers, he's ok with it. So much so, he’s surprised when Jihoon shifts back suddenly, pulling away from him. Seungcheol gets a good look at his face, and there are beads of sweat over Jihoon’s brow and lip, his pupils are tiny black dots in the half-light and his mouth is swollen and red.

"You okay?" Seungcheol asks.

Jihoon licks his lips and frowns like he doesn’t understand. “Yeah. It’s, it’s good. But it’s warm. I—I haven’t felt this warm in so long, it just feels a little weird.”

Seungcheol quirks a brow and lifts an arm, presses the back of his hand over Jihoon’s cheek. Jihoon’s skin where it touches him is burning hot. It always used to be just slightly below room temperature, like a freakin corpse. But oddly, _Seungcheol’s_ the one who's cold now.

“That’s a good sign.” Seungcheol says, but he sounds uncertain.

He doesn't _really_ know what it means or if it’s a positive sign at all. Jihoon’s hair hangs damp at the back of his neck, and although there’s a cool breeze coming in through the open window, the linen bandage covering his side and wrapping around to the small of his back is sodden with sweat.

It can’t be good for his slowly healing wound, but when Seungcheol pushes the bandage aside to check, he finds the plains of wet, broken skin are already knitting together sluggishly.

“You’re healing.” Seungcheol whispers, a little wonder in his voice.

Jihoon tips his head down, cranes his neck to get a better look. “Oh—guess I am. That was pretty fast.”

He locks eyes with Seungcheol again, intent, wordlessly asking if he can continue.

Seungcheol nods and Jihoon leans in, tongue sliding along Seungcheol's collar to catch a stray droplet, making him shiver. He latches on once again, sucking more softly this time even as his fingers clench and relax in Seungcheol’s arm, quick little digs of pain.

In the end Seungcheol doesn’t have to tell Jihoon to stop, doesn’t have to pull him off. He feels the vampire stop suckling soon enough, and now he’s just sitting there straddling Seungcheol’s lap, breathing low and even into the warm hollow of his neck.

After a prolonged silence where neither of them move, Seungcheol dares to. He cranes his neck to study Jihoon, "Hey, what are you—”, and stops talking, because Jihoon eyes are closed, mouth open just a little and he has one arm looped around Seungcheol’s neck. He looks small and soft, and completely exhausted.

For a second Seungcheol thinks he’s just passed out again, overcome with euphoric energy after his first feed—but then he dismisses that notion entirely because Jihoon starts _snoring_.

Jihoon literally just fell asleep on top of him during a feed.

Seungcheol isn't even sure how to process that. The fact that Jihoon trusts him enough to not only come here injured, but to fall asleep in his arms mid feed that’s—that's a huge deal. He’s not sure how or when it happened, but it’s very possible that Seungcheol has in fact _imprinted_ on a baby vampire.

The whole world might as well just turn inside out while it was at it.

With an amused sigh, Seungcheol scoops Jihoon up and carries him into the bedroom. Time to put his baby vampire down for a nap.

* * *

A few hours later and Seungcheol is regretting every decision he’s made in his entire life.

Jihoon woke up after his post feed nap, padded into the living room where Seungcheol was trying to scrub the blood out of the couch—and hit the roof.

Literally.

Seungcheol’s blood has healed him— _and then some._ Because, now Jihoon’s jumping off the walls with manic energy, chattering a mile a minute and coming right up close to Seungcheol’s face to tell him how _awesome_ he feels.

“Seungcheol—look—look.” Jihoon grins, lifting the couch over his head effortlessly.

“Put that down before you hurt yourself. Or damage the walls. _Jesus_.” Seungcheol sighs, because there’s a dent in the ceiling that Seungcheol knows is probably _never_ going to be fixed.

Jihoon obliges him and sets the couch down, but like a Duracell bunny, he keeps _moving_. The Lycan blood continues to race through his body, leaving his muscles twitchy and electrified and his eyes unable to rest in any one place.

Seungcheol wonders if he should sit down somewhere out of the way and let the vampire exhaust himself. Then decides _against_ this particular line of action when Jihoon demonstrates his new, impressive vampire strength by trying to lift _him_.

Seungcheol smiles, raising an eyebrow fondly, “Okay—that’s enough now. Please put me down.”

Up until Jihoon's arrival, he'd been a model neighbour. Quiet, pleasant, took out the trash like Swiss clockwork. This week, though, he's already been caught cleaning up a blood trail on his doorstep, burying ashes in the garden, and now raising his voice and trying to calm down a hyperactive baby vampire.

On the bright side, at least Jihoon’s hyperactivity stops them from having a super awkward conversation about the feeding session. Which Seungcheol's grateful for. But on the other—hell, Seungcheol doesn’t even know what the other hand's even holding.

“Aw man, I’m so buzzed. I feel amazing. I feel so strong. I’ve never felt this way before. It’s like I’ve got this well of energy now and I can do anything. Anything Seungcheol. I think I could lift a car. Hell, even a truck. I should go outside and check that out. Actually I will. Oh, no I can’t. It’s daylight outside. But later for sure. Man, I’m _so_ excited. I need to do something. Hey you wanna wrestle? Let’s _wrestle_. I think we should wrestle. Come wrestle with me. I’ll be gentle on you dude, don’t worry. I’ll only like use 5% of my strength. Fuck, I feel _amazing_. Has the sun set yet? _Damn_ , it hasn’t. I can’t wait to go outside and wrestle a truck. Or maybe find that guy who shot me and kick his ass. Yeah—I’m going to do that. I’m so happy!” Jihoon says all that, in less than ten seconds.

Seungcheol pinches the bridge of his nose, “Jihoon, please sit down or I will sit on you.” He says, for what feels like the hundredth time.

He knows Jihoon's dealing with a massive surplus of energy right now, but if someone doesn't sit on him—quite possibly literally—he'll be out on the street and throwing himself into the first fight he can finagle.

“I can’t! I’m too pumped! I wanna test my strength. I _need_ to.” Jihoon urges. He smiles, bringing out a dimple in his cheek. “Come on—let’s _wrestle_. I promise, I’ll go easy on you.”

Seungcheol opens his mouth to say ‘no’, then has a better idea. He feels an anticipatory smile pull at his lips.

“You know what. Why not!” He agrees amiably.

* * *

It's how Seungcheol ends up on the floor with Jihoon straddling his waist, small but surprisingly strong hands pressing down on his shoulders.

Jihoon had taken him down in quick, efficient movements and Seungcheol hadn’t resisted any of it. He’d pretended to put up a good fight, sure, but ultimately allowed Jihoon to best him. His reasoning being: if Jihoon’s expending his new found energy in _here_ —he’s not showing it off out _there_.

“Ha—got you.” Jihoon grins smugly.

Seungcheol fails to look impressed, “Oh no _. However will I escape_.”

Jihoon releases his shoulders and sits back, watching with sparkling eyes as Seungcheol stares up at the ceiling.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself.” Jihoon grins, patting him on the chest companionably. “You might be a big guy, but I have super vampire strength now—there was no way you could beat me.”

Seungcheol would roll his eyes at that if he wasn't afraid they might roll right out of their sockets with the force of it.

“Of course. Thank you for being so gentle. May I just say, your modesty is admirable.” He drawls.

Jihoon turns a smirk on him, friendly and teasing and a little bit smug. “Wanna go again? I’ll only use one hand this time.” He says, bouncing happily where he’s perched over Seungcheol and— _Fuck—Jesus—Shit—Son of a bitch!!_

The tight end of Jihoon's ass is brushing against Seungcheol dick with each bounce, forcing broken noises to spill from his throat and his hips stutter up, completely involuntary.

“ _Jihoon_!” Seungcheol growls through his teeth, gripping the vampire’s hips to still him.

Jihoon stops immediately. He leans over Seungcheol again, hands on shoulders, eye to eye, head tipped curiously. He starts to smile, then stops. A flicker of uncertainty in his dark eyes.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He murmurs.

Seungcheol takes a deep, patient breath.

“No, I’m fine.” He says, then tenses and flips them over, reversing their positions effortlessly and pinning Jihoon to the floor.

“What the hell!” Jihoon yelps, startled.

Huffing, he tries to push Seungcheol off, but Seungcheol has the greater bulk and keeps him in place.

“Well—this _was_ fun.” Seungcheol says, grabbing Jihoon’s wrists and holding them down near his head. He thinks maybe the expression Jihoon throws him is half confused and half accusing. He still reads it well enough to smile back.

“How are you—” Jihoon struggles under his weight, irritated and not a little bit confused at how Seungcheol has managed to pin him so easily. “Why are you so strong suddenly?”

“Hmm. Maybe the effect of the blood is wearing out.” Seungcheol shrugs, though he knows it’s not entirely true.

Jihoon tries to move but Seungcheol's grip is like iron, he grunts with the effort of it for several minutes; then reluctantly gives in and relaxes, anger falling into an expression of quiet misery.

“Dammit. _Fine_. You win.” Jihoon replies, solemn.

“Great—,” Seungcheol nods, releasing the vampire’s wrists. “And my prize is going to be _you_ chilling the fuck out and staying in one place so I can get some stuff done.”

Brows furrowing, Jihoon scrubs a hand over his face and nods.

Seungcheol moves to get up, but a quiet sniffle from Jihoon stills him, seems to demand all his attention. He plants his hands down on either side of Jihoon’s head and stares down at him.

Jihoon has an arm thrown over his face, but it’s a pleasant surprise that he allows Seungcheol to move it out of the way to get a good look at him.

Seungcheol almost wishes he hadn’t, because there are tears in Jihoon’s eyes, and Seungcheol watches as they well at the corners and spill out, rivulets running down into and wetting the hair at Jihoon’s temples.

“ _Hoonie_ ,” Seungcheol murmurs. He frowns, and reaches down to swipe his thumb beneath Jihoon’s eye. “What’s wrong?”

Jihoon shakes his head and looks away. _Petulantly_.

And that’s just great—fucking great! Seungcheol’s made his vampire cry.

He didn’t think he was being that rough, in fact he was putting more effort into restraining himself than anything. But now Jihoon’s in tears because Seungcheol’s a big, stupid, smelly, too many adjectives, insensitive jerk.

“Sorry—I just.” Jihoon makes a noise, something that's too complicated for Seungcheol to unravel. He sees it sideways and it might be apology, or guilt, or embarrassment. “I just realised how I must be such a pain in the ass for you.”

“What? _Why_ would you think that?” Seungcheol says, letting himself laugh in disbelief as he runs his thumb across Jihoon's cheek.

Jihoon tries to glare at him but ends up pouting, looking ridiculously adorable with those baby-fangs peeking out over his lip. 

“Seungcheol, please—” Jihoon says, voice going brittle. A stray tear collects, and he swipes at his face. “Don’t make excuses for me. First I showed up at your door step and attacked you--”

“ _Unsuccessfully_.” Seungcheol adds wryly, because he thinks that’s important to note.

Jihoon scowls at him, tear tracks smudged over the flushed skin of his face, brow screwed up in a frown.

“Yeah, but I’m eating your food and burning a hole in your pocket. And I didn’t listen to you even though you’re the only one who looks out for me.” He sniffs, eyes fluttering shut briefly. “I got myself injured and then bled all over your carpet, and now I’m bouncing around out of control and pissing you off. For fuck sake Cheol—I _fed_ on you.” He says stiffly and his mouth presses tight and thin to stop it from quivering.

"Hey, don't. It didn’t hurt." Seungcheol says with a shrug, which is mostly the truth. “I invited you in, remember? And I offered to share my food, and it was my idea that you feed properly so you've got nothing to feel guilty about. And anyway, it _worked_. You’re healed and I’m sure you’ve learnt a valuable life lesson about trusting people too quickly.”

Jihoon gives him a sharp look, like he knows Seungcheol's letting him off there. But he makes a strange shrugging movement, like he doesn't like thinking about it, doesn't like remembering it.

“Listen Jihoon, you’re not a pain in the ass, and I like having you around. I—I enjoy your company.” Seungcheol says shakily. It's a rough burst of strange honesty. One of the hard-edged things he makes a habit of not admitting to.

"Really?" Jihoon gives him a look which plainly doesn’t believe him.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t exactly have a lot of people to hang around with.” Seungcheol smirks, letting just a touch of self-deprecating humour show.

Jihoon makes an apologetic noise and Seungcheol looks at him, not knowing what to expect. His eyes are soft, though, and when he speaks his voice is very kind. “Why? You seem pretty friendly to me.”

Seungcheol shrugs, scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “I didn’t always use to be. I _guess_ people remember that, and it takes a while to change their perceptions.” He murmurs, trusting Jihoon to follow what he's not saying.

There is a pause while Jihoon considers this. 

“What about that guy from earlier? The one with the long hair. Isn’t he your friend?”

“Who, Jeonghan? Yeah—I _guess_ we’re friends.” Seungcheol says with much confusion. He’s not quite sure himself. 

At least he thinks Jeonghan and him are friends, antagonistic friends. Chaotic neutral friends?

“It’s hard to be friends with your vet though.” Seungcheol says after a minute, smiling askance at him, “We don’t exactly run in the same circles.”

“Vet?” Jihoon echoes, wrinkling his nose. “But—you don’t _have_ any pets.”

At Jihoon’s perplexed expression Seungcheol grimaces.

“Yeah, uhm—it’s a long story. I’ll explain later.” He smiles, and stands, pulling Jihoon up with him. “But first, I need you to stay here and keep an eye on the place while I go out and buy a futon.”

“Why are you buying a futon?” Jihoon asks him, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ll see.”

* * *

Seungcheol makes a trip to the hardware store, fills a cart, and has a very productive day off work.

Twelve hours ago, his walk-in closet had been freshly cleared of his surplus clothing, having served its function as a bonus closet for two years. It hadn't been much to look at, last Jihoon saw it: four whitewashed plaster walls, a scratched-up hardwood floor, and a single lightbulb serving as the only source of illumination.

Now the walls are freshly painted with a sort of deep-hued Saracen red, the floor refinished and stained walnut with black baseboards around its margins. The overhead light is muted, on a dimmer switch. There's a small chest of drawers, several little bookshelves, a wooden chest, and against the far wall there's the futon he had delivered that morning that doubles as a small couch.

“Holy shit, _Cheol_.” says Jihoon, leaning in the doorway, stunned.

"Once I started," Seungcheol begins embarrassedly, "I—I got carried away. I know it’s kind of small, but when the doors shut, it’s pitch black. Even during the day. You could stay in there and sleep and stuff. It’s for you.”

Try as he might, he can't seem to meet Jihoon’s eye. It’s partially instinctual, he knows that, like a shy dog being skittish around new friends.

Jihoon stares at the side of his face for what amounts to be the longest minute of Seungcheol’s life, then tilts his head slightly to the side as if to see Seungcheol from a new angle. Seungcheol can almost _hear_ him thinking _'of course you'd build me a vampire den in your closet, Choi Seungcheol, you predictable idiot.'_

“If you don’t want it, that’s totally up to you. I just thought it would be a good idea?” Seungcheol says, and it comes out as a question, even though he hadn’t intended that at all.

He's almost expecting a flippant answer, but he doesn't get one.

“I want to.” Jihoon blurts out. “I love it, I just—you really don’t have to do this Cheol. You’ve done so much for me already.”

Seungcheol glances out the window, embarrassed.

“Well, it's too late now. The adoption's final, and I'm the proud owner of one slightly damaged baby vampire, so would you please just get inside your vampire den already.” He mumbles, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the closet. “You're making me tired just looking at you.”

Jihoon huffs something annoyed, but steps inside and lets Seungcheol close the door to test it out.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, then--

“It smells of you.” Jihoon’s voice says from across the door.

Seungcheol face crumples into something offended. “Well, I suppose we can blast it with air fresheners if you-“

“No. I like it!” Jihoon interrupts quickly. _Shyly_? “I like that it smells of you. It makes me feel…. _safe_.” He murmurs almost too quiet to hear through the door.

Seungcheol ignores the way it surprises him, the way it makes something clench in his chest.

He doesn’t think Jihoon would have admitted to that if there wasn’t a door between them, shielding both their expressions to that little revelation. He’s glad there is cause he’s never blushed so furiously in his entire fucking life.

“Oh. Uhm—okay then.”

* * *

Seungcheol should be sleeping. Of course he should be sleeping. In the quiet haven of his room, with Jihoon resting peacefully in a closet a few feet away from him, he should be out cold. 

But he can’t sleep, because Jihoon’s quiet snoring stopped a few minutes ago and Seungcheol can’t stop thinking about it.

It’s completely stupid, but Seungcheol is compelled by a sudden need to make sure that Jihoon is still _breathing_.

He usually can’t stand the sound of somebody’s snoring, but it’s too damn quiet here at night. Not enough distractions to ward off the creeping hunger that still comes to him in the dark sometimes, no matter how many layers of glib jests or brazen bravado he buries himself under. And he’s grown fond of Jihoon’s snoring: it’s strangely soft and cute and he’s been doing it since Seungcheol’s known him, so he can’t very well decide to stop just when he fancies a change.

It’s not _fair_.

After another minute of fitful twitching, Seungcheol levers up a bit and strains his ears, tries to listen for the sound of breathing coming from the closet. Nothing.

Seungcheol chews on his lip, torn by indecision.

Should he just get out of bed and knock quietly on the door? And if Jihoon is asleep, if that wakes him up, say what? _Please can you keep snoring, so I know that you’re okay?_

That doesn’t sound insane _at all._

Or maybe he should concede to insomnia and get up, get a drink, read a book. And wait until morning, when he’ll find his baby vampire lying dead in his closet, having suffocated in his sleep while Seungcheol kicked back in the next room!

You know what: fuck that.

He can’t stand it anymore. He throws off the bedsheets and stumbles out, walking quietly over to the closet across from his bed.

When Seungcheol cracks the door open and pokes his head in, Jihoon doesn’t so much as stir, remaining a shapeless inert lump under the covers on the futon in the corner.

With a little sigh, Seungcheol steps in and over to where Jihoon is lying. In the shadow-filled room, he can barely make out the pale stretch of neck and blonde, tousled hair above a heap of blankets, and that little bit of Jihoon is visibly lax and soft with sleep.

Or possibly _rigor mortis._

Seungcheol stops a foot away, and then curls a hand very gently around Jihoon’s shoulder; Jihoon is not known for his slow and tender awakenings as a matter of course. But he doesn’t budge, doesn’t move, still, a cold solid thing under Seungcheol’s touch.

Seungcheol tries not to be alarmed at this; only minutes can have passed since he could hear soft snoring from under the gap in the door.

“Hoonie,” Seungcheol says, and squeezes Jihoon’s shoulder now, feeling his own heart thump a little worriedly in spite of himself.

Jihoon wakes on a quick inhalation. His shoulder rolls out from under Seungcheol’s touch as he turns onto his back and blinks bleary eyes up at him.

“Cheol?”

Relieved, Seungcheol can’t prevent himself from hooking his fingers under the blankets’ edge and tugging them down to see Jihoon’s face. “You stopped snoring,” he says by way of explanation.

The futon creaks as Jihoon shifts up onto his elbows, the dim silhouette of his cowlick sticking up like it’s expressing his confusion. “So? I thought not snoring was a good thing.”

The calm acceptance in Jihoon’s voice makes it worse, causes Seungcheol to babble his way through an explanation.

“No. Snoring is healthy. Snoring is recommended by health experts—probably. Don’t hold it in Jihoon—let it out. _Snore_.”

Jihoon snorts tiredly, “I thought that was farting?”

“No, it’s definitely snoring. Please snore. I mean—you can fart if you want, but this is a confined space dude. Too much carbon dioxide is probably bad for you in a small space. That’s how people suffocate in cars yanno, by leaving the ignition on. Granted the carbon dioxide output from farting is not as big, but a room this small can fill up quickly.”

And now Seungcheol realises he veered wildly off topic and stops himself with a sigh. “My point is—I’m _used_ to hearing you snore, and when you stopped I was quietly freaking out about you not breathing.”

He will _not_ invest in a baby vampire monitor. _He will not._

A beat of silence, then the rustle of cloth as Jihoon resettles onto his side, facing him in the dark.

“You’re thinking of setting up a baby monitor, aren’t you?” Jihoon says dryly, and now his mouth has acquired a slight curve. Seungcheol doesn't have to use his superior night vision to see the flash of white teeth in the darkness.

Seungcheol huffs a breath of laughter. “ _No_.” He retorts, straightening up, letting go of the covers. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have woke you.”

Jihoon grabs his wrist before he can step away, curls his finger around it and squeezes softly, “Are _you_ okay Cheol?”

Seungcheol is grateful for the darkness because he has the horrible feeling that he might be blushing.

"Me— _pfft_. Of course. I wasn’t the one who got shot." he says, grinning and adopting what he hopes is a casual pose. But Jihoon is looking at him strangely, with eyes so heavy and considering that Seungcheol almost flinches under the weight of his gaze.

“It’s fucking warm in here, are you sure you have enough air to breathe?” Seungcheol blabbers, trying to cover the way his pulse is thumping hard now in his wrists. “Maybe I should drill some air holes in the wall for you. Or—”

“Cheol.” Jihoon interrupts softly, squeezing his wrist again. “I’m _okay._ I feel great. Better than I have in months.”

He seems to realise he's still holding Seungcheol’s wrist, gives his own hand an almost bewildered look, before very carefully letting him go.

Seungcheol rubs tiredness out of his eyes and draws in a slow breath. “Yeah, I _know_. Just might take me some time to accept it. You’ll have to be patient with me while I work on my crazy protective instincts. It, uhm, runs in the family.”

There’s a rustle of fabric as Jihoon shakes his head against his pillow.

“They’re not crazy. They’re sweet.” He whispers back, eyes sliding shut again.

Silence falls over the room, briefly.

On impulse, Seungcheol reaches out and touches Jihoon’s hair, presses his fingertips where it curls around Jihoon’s ear, and mirrors Jihoon's smile. “Good night Jihoonie.”

Jihoon shuffles under the covers, makes little sleepy stretching noises. “Night, Cheol.” He says, cracking a yawn.

Seungcheol’s out of the closet (not like that) and swinging the door shut when Jihoon calls out to him.

“Can you leave it open a little? _Please_.” He asks, the soft whisper tight with embarrassment.

Seungcheol smiles to himself and leaves the door ajar. “Sure.”

He climbs back into bed and sleeps—actually sleeps, rather than pretending to sleep while furtively keeping an eye on Jihoon.

He should probably be worried about a Vampire sleeping in his closet, but the soft sound of Jihoon’s snoring drifting through the crack in the door is powerfully and unexpectedly soporific, shaking loose some fine line of tension he’s been carrying for an age unknowing. The room smells of antiseptic and paint thinner, and faintly still of blood, but under all that there’s Jihoon, and that’s just about the nicest smell you can drift off to. 


	5. Sympathy For The Devil

It’s not boring, strictly speaking, starting a rare weekend off by hitting the gym and then the grocery store once you clock out of work. It’s just _routine_. There’s an enormous difference. Seungcheol has learned to value routine very much in his life, thanks to a few too many years of not having any at all.

So when he comes home juggling his bags and trying to text Mingyu one-handed that, _no,_ he’s not going to the next reunion just to play a Lycan five-a-side football match, he doesn’t expect to practically trip over the person hunched outside his door.

Someone in torn jeans and worn converse and an oversized navy hoodie, someone who grunts sleepily when Seungcheol drops everything to make sure he doesn’t have an actual _corpse_ to deal with.

Thankfully the person is very much alive, though it still doesn't explain why they've decided to take a nap on Seungcheol's doorstep.

There isn't anything imminently inviting about his front door; no potted plants or rose bushes to moon at, and he even removed the "Welcome" mat when he first moved in just in case it gave his neighbours _ideas._

He's not expecting any deliveries either, and it's not the usual delivery guy anyway, and if by some chance there is someone out there stupid enough to try and burgle his home, they've got themselves a very uninspiring lookout.

After a quick scan for weapons, Seungcheol takes his chances and tentatively crouches down a bit more. “Hey pal, there a particular reason you're sleeping here?”

The shape stirs some at that, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like “Oh _shit, sorry_.”

Straightening up, Seungcheol takes a step back to give the guy some space.

"It's cool, I'm not complaining, I just think you'd probably be more comfortable elsewhere. You know, somewhere _warmer."_

There’s not nearly enough of a chill in the air for exposure to the elements to be fatal, but the guy's not exactly layering up, and Seungcheol doesn’t want to deal with the bureaucracy of reporting a dead body in the morning. A dead body in front of a Lycan’s home is never going to look good, regardless of the cause of death.

“Are you inviting me inside?” his visitor ask, sitting up and pulling back his hood.

It’s Soonyoung.

Soonyoung the vampire from the supermarket, who practically shat his pants when he first laid eyes on Seungcheol, then stalked him in plain sight as he did his grocery shopping last week.

He’s still waking, still half-curled around a brown paper bag, which is clearly the position he’s been in for some time. The expression on his face is a mixture of embarrassment and sleepiness as he moves to stand, a study in lanky angles and incongruous grace.

Seungcheol has a distinctly bad feeling about all this. He scratches his chin thoughtfully, “Soonyoung, uh, what are you doing here?”

The vampire’s mouth falls open with a soft gasp.

“You, you remembered my _name.”_ He says seriously, words slow and surprised.

 _“What are you doing here?”_ Seungcheol repeats, his irritation palpable enough to jolt Soonyoung out of his stupor.

“Oh, uhh—came to give you these.” Soonyoung says, holding out the bag for Seungcheol to take.

He looks confused at Seungcheol’s reluctance to accept the parcel and pulls it back towards him slowly. “I was gonna wait till you came back, but I didn’t know _when_ you’d be back. Then I got to thinking maybe you wouldn’t come back _at all_ , because I know I was kind of intrusive when we met and I thought maybe I’d scared you away, so I just thought I’d stop by and bring them to you.”

Seungcheol thinks that comes out sounding more like an apology than an explanation.

More than a bit suspicious, Seungcheol reaches out carefully to pull down the top of the paper and peeks at the contents. He blinks stupidly at the four bags of Fortified Pseudo-Globin he finds inside.

It comes back to him all at once: asking about the fortified variety because the shelves where empty, and Soonyoung offering to keep some back for him. He never imagined Soonyoung would remember his promise, much less actually turn up at his home.

Seungcheol takes the parcel from his hands then, because he doesn’t know what else to do. He knows what he _would usually_ do with a vampire—growl, flash his claws, send them running, anything but encourage them to loiter—but he can’t now for some reason.

“How did you find out where I live?” Seungcheol asks, carefully sizing up the vampire. He can see the glint of sharp fangs in the dark and knows better that to turn away.

Soonyoung looks at him guiltily from behind a wayward lock of hair, “I might have followed you.”

Seungcheol raises one eyebrow sceptically. It has taken him a long time to learn how to do that, and though he doesn't have need of it often, this is definitely one of those times that calls for the raised eyebrow. “ _Might_ have?”

Soonyoung draws a breath as if to say something, then deflates. “Okay. I just followed you.”

Seungcheol shoots him a dark look, “ _Why_?”

“ _Because_ , I—like—dogs.” Soonyoung says, slowly, purposefully, as if that matters in some way. And now he’s shifting his weight, looking even more uncomfortable.

Seungcheol was 100% sure he could predict the course of this conversation, but that statement has effectively derailed his assumptions.

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Seungcheol asks, honestly curious, fighting to keep his voice steady. 

He’s afraid of where the conversation is heading, possibly to some weird and uncomfortable territory where Soonyoung admits to being a furry, and wanting Seungcheol to attend an orgy with him or something.

“It means, what it means. I like dogs. _A lot_.” Soonyoung repeats with a half shrug. He looks tense, hands pushed so hard into his pockets that his shoulders are sharp curves. “I like dogs and _therefore_ , I thought we could be best friends.”

 _“Best…friends?!”_ Seungcheol echoes in disbelief.

He’s a little concerned that ‘Best Friends’ is an option here, when he’s almost certain they’re not even ‘friends’ to begin with.

You don’t just jump from being random strangers who meet in a supermarket to best friends in a week. They’re not even acquaintances for crying out loud. Soonyoung doesn’t even know his name and Seungcheol’s not planning on sharing it now, just in case Soonyoung goes out and has it tattooed on his wrist or something, like a permanent friendship bracelet. 

_Oh, God_ —that’s a horrifying and very distinct possibility in the near future.

Soonyoung is absolutely the type of guy who would wear a friendship bracelet. Seungcheol doesn’t know what’s worse: Soonyoung being a furry or Soonyoung making him a friendship bracelet and forcing him to wear it.

“I know that seems a little out of the blue,” Soonyoung interrupts before the mental images of matching friendship bracelets get any more disturbing. “But I was thinking about you lot this week and I think you’re interesting. I came because I…wanted to get ‘ _closer’_ to you.” He says, in what he clearly thinks is _absolutely not_ a creepy voice.

Seungcheol nearly drops the bag of Pseudo-Globin. The fact that his brain just put that in air quotes is very, very disturbing.

“I—I can’t deal with this right now.” Seungcheol stammers, shaking his head to clear it. He fishes his wallet out of his back pocket and starts thumbing through the bills there. “How much do I owe you for the Pseudo-Globin.”

Soonyoung waves him off with an airy gesture. “Oh, no—I’m not expecting you to pay. The Pseudo-Globin is my peace offering on the ladder of our friendship.” He breaks off, shoving both hands into his pockets again, “Now, what are _you_ going to offer to earn the title of my best friend?”

Seungcheol lets out a startled laugh. “Absolutely nothing. Get the fuck out of my territory.”

“Hey, don’t say _that_.” Soonyoung murmurs, shoulders slumped, eyes downcast. “ _We’re friends.”_

“We— _are not_ —friends.” _Seungcheol growls out._

Soonyoung's silence sounds offended, though he doesn't say anything for almost a minute. “You’re right—we’re not friends. We’re _best_ friends.” He says with renewed vigour.

Seungcheol clenches a fist. “ _No_.”

“Can I pet you now?” Soonyoung interjects cheerfully, and Seungcheol goes slack jawed, certain he’s heard that wrong.

“What?!”

“Can I _pet_ you?” Soonyoung repeats, and no, apparently Seungcheol heard it just _fine_ the first time.

“No! You cannot fucking pet me.” Seungcheol spits incredulously. He straightens his back and squares his shoulders, adopting a pose he knows sets people on edge. “Now, fuck off before I rip your—"

“I don’t think you’re going to hurt me.” Soonyoung interrupts, stepping closer. He gives the illusion of confidence with the outward jut of his chin, meeting Seungcheol’s gaze head on. But there’s no disguising his anxiety with the way he’s chewing his bottom lip and scuffing his shoe on the concrete.

“Don’t talk to me like you _know_ me.” Seungcheol huffs.

Soonyoung shrugs, slinking closer once more. “I’m just saying, I think you would have hurt me already if you were going to. But I don’t think you want to do that. I think you’re a nice, reformed Lycan who wants to make friends.” He finishes with a smile.

Seungcheol frowns and puts some space between them. He watches Soonyoung’s smile for a long time, tries to see the edge. He's good at finding the edges, where things don't fit, finding out exactly how to pull them free and get at what's underneath.

But Soonyoung looks for all the world like he's just here for friendship. Like he really just followed Seungcheol home cause he found him _interesting_. Somewhere along the way he’s gotten the wrong idea and determined ‘Lycan’ is interchangeable with ‘Pet’, and perhaps hoped to domesticate Seungcheol so that they might— _oh, God_ —frolic through the woods together or something.

Seungcheol isn't quite prepared for that.

He blames Jihoon. He has no clear reason to blame Jihoon, yet it seems like something that should be entirely his fault. Things like this didn't happen to Seungcheol before he met Jihoon.

Jihoon’s obviously made him soft, turned him into the friendly neighbourhood Lycan and he never signed up for that.

Seungcheol breathes in slowly. Breathes out again with his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and doesn't speak until he's found a measure of calm.

“Listen—kid. I don’t know what you’ve been smoking, but let’s set a few things straight right now. You’re a Vampire, and I’m a Lycan.” Seungcheol reminds him, in case he's forgotten. “I’m dangerous and I like my solitude. I don’t want friends, and if I _did—_ It sure as hell wouldn’t be you because _I don’t hang around with Vampires._ Got it?” He bites out.

Of course, this is the exact moment the front door swings open and Jihoon decides to poke his head out.

“Seungcheol? I _thought_ I heard you out here!” Jihoon chirps, shuffling out of the doorway and into full view. He’s clearly just woken from a nap what with the floofy hair and rumpled oversized T-shirt of Seungcheol’s he likes to sleep in.

Seungcheol sighs, dropping his forehead into his free hand. This is going to go so _well_.

He can see it happening in slow motion, the realisation dawning on Soonyoung’s face as he takes in the sight of Jihoon standing in the doorway, the way his startled confusion is slowly replaced with something terribly, terribly gleeful.

“Holy shit. Interspecies relationships?” Soonyoung asks, looking between them for a long moment. “ _Nice_.”

Jihoon pauses just outside the doorway, finally registering Soonyoung’s presence with a curious tilt of his head. “Cheol? Who’s this?”

Seungcheol’s mouth opens and shuts, caught not knowing what to answer.

“I’m Soonyoung—his best friend.” Soonyoung says, not missing a beat.

Seungcheol eyeballs him, sputtering uselessly as Soonyoung steps closer and throws an arm around his shoulders, before turning to Jihoon and giving him a quick, assessing look. “And _you are…?”_

Jihoon looks at him with sad, expectant eyes, “I’m Jihoon, I live in his closet.” He says in a wounded tone. 

“Jihoon?” Soonyoung echoes, considering that for a moment. “That’s odd, Seungcheol’s never _mentioned_ you before.”

Jihoon wrinkles his nose at the suggestion, forehead creasing and mouth ever so slightly pushing out.

“Yeah, well—he’s never mentioned _you_ before either.” He says, suddenly defensive to an endearing degree. 

Seungcheol thinks he's sulking.

God damn it.

“Jihoonie, please, don’t even listen to this guy.” Seungcheol twists his head, and glares at the side of Soonyoung’s face. “I haven’t told him anything about you because I don’t fucking know him!”

 _“Oh, but you remembered my name.”_ Soonyoung whispers out of the side of his mouth.

Seungcheol tamps down on the hysterical laughter that wants to bubble up and spill over. He shoves Soonyoung away and walks backwards towards the door. “He’s crazy. He's high on something, I’m telling you.”

“You’re right, I am high. High on our _friendship_.” Soonyoung nods his head solemnly, like he’s just said something profound.

Seungcheol spreads his hands, “That’s it! Jihoon, please go inside. And you,” he turns, pointing at Soonyoung accusingly as he backs up the steps, “Stay the fuck away from me. I’m not kidding.”

Soonyoung’s face crumples as he watches, “Wait-”

* * *

The door slams shut at his back. Seungcheol tosses the bags of Pseudo-Globin he’s still holding on the cabinet, before spinning and dead bolting the door.

“Why didn’t you tell me your best friend was a vampire?” Jihoon snaps, then looks slightly guilty. “Not that I care or anything. It just would have been nice to know beforehand, not to mention _useful_ when I was having an identity crisis.”

Seungcheol closes his eyes and manfully holds back the urge to bash his head against the nearest wall.

“He is not,” He says, in a completely level tone, “my best friend.”

Jihoon nods, slowly. There's an obvious _Okay, have it your way_ intended there, but Seungcheol doesn't feel like doing anything about it. He shakes his jacket off, hangs it up and forces himself to relax before continuing.

“I literally met him for the first time last week in the supermarket. We hardly spoke, and now he’s followed me home. He’s a stalker, Jihoon. _Oh my god_ , I have a vampire stalker.” He repeats in disbelief, mostly for his own benefit so his brain can play catch up.

Jihoon levels him a dubious look, then stands on his tip toes to look through the peephole.

“Uhm, Cheol? He’s still standing outside.”

“What?” Seungcheol gasps, moving Jihoon aside to look through the peephole himself.

Soonyoung is indeed still there, standing at the bottom of the front steps and— _waving_. He's smiling like some sort of demented cherub, in a way which, in that one second, Seungcheol finds viscerally, almost _painfully_ adorable.

“Okay, that settles it. We need to relocate.” Seungcheol announces drastically.

Jihoon’s quiet for a moment, then hesitantly offers, “Maybe you should just invite him in?”

Seungcheol eyeballs him, “Why the fuck would I do that?”

Jihoon scratches the back of his head, one shoulder rising in a half shrug. “I could ask him questions. About being a vampire and stuff. I don’t know any other vampires, and he _seems_ friendly enough.”

It probably says something about Seungcheol ’s life that he doesn’t even bat an eye at that logic.

Jesus, it's going to be a long day.

* * *

Soonyoung spends his first ten minutes in the house watching Seungcheol, transfixed. He hasn't quite learned the art of meaningful and suggestive looks being subtle yet, so it’s mostly just staring.

Really intense staring.

Of course, the whole ‘Lycan instinct-don't turn your back on a vampire' thing is encouraging Seungcheol to stare right back, which he's fairly sure won’t make it all better. He’s torn between wanting to say ‘Take a picture, it’ll last longer’ and fearing Soonyoung will _actually_ take a picture.

Thankfully, Jihoon eases the tension by coaxing Soonyoung into the kitchen. They sit on stools at the breakfast bar, swapping stories over mugs of hot chocolate, while Seungcheol watches them with building trepidation from his position sprawled dramatically over the couch.

Two months ago, he had zero vampires in his home.

Now he has _two._

He’s never been great at mathematics but that’s like—one vampire a _month_. In a year he’ll have twelve vampires, and that’s practically a football team. A vampire football team! He grins imagining the look on Mingyu’s face when he shows up at the next Lycan reunion with his vampire football team.

Okay, so he might have allowed himself to get a little side tracked there.

He blames the two vampires in his kitchen.

Having vampires in your kitchen is a lot to take in any day of the week, especially when said vampires stop chatting every few minutes to look over at him and _smile_.

It’s very disconcerting to say the least.

He doesn’t really want to use his heightened Lycan hearing to eavesdrop on them, but he does because he’s very worried Soonyoung is filling his baby vampire’s head with fanciful notions of dinner parties with Lycan’s as the main course. Or maybe he’s pushing the whole Lycan/Furry orgy thing and—no, Seungcheol decides eavesdropping is essential for his continued state of mental health. 

Of course, it’s almost impossible to keep a straight face once he _does_ intrude, because the conversation goes a little something like this.

“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful, but I don’t really _know_ that many vampires either. Everything I’ve learnt I picked up from watching my progenitor, but now that I’m alone I’ve just had to wing it and so far it’s turned out okay….. _Mostly_ okay.” There's a drum of fingers against ceramic, Seungcheol thinks there's more there, that Soonyoung's not willing to share. “I’m pretty sure being _here_ goes against the vampire code. Not that there _is_ a vampire code or anything. Or maybe there is, I don’t know. Also, another thing about being a vampire I don’t know which I _probably_ should.”

Jihoon’s shoulders rise and then fall, something like a shrug, “It’s okay. It’s cool to just be able to talk to another vampire.”

Soonyoung smiles warmly.

“I know right? Although, I’ll let you in on a little secret,” He turns suddenly serious, switching his voice into a theatrical whisper that has no impact on the volume. “Vampires aren’t that friendly. In fact, most of the ones I’ve met are pompous jerks that only look out for themselves. If you don’t belong to a coven—they treat you like garbage, and even if you do, there is a lot of backstabbing going on. So you’re not missing out much if you never meet another one.”

Jihoon doesn't seem to know what to say to that, but he eventually manages a quiet “Oh.”

“But you seem to be doing pretty okay for yourself.” Soonyoung smiles genially, taking a sip of his hot chocolate, then wiping his mouth. “I don’t know how I would have survived my first few months without my progenitor.”

Jihoon pulls a face.

“ _Ah_ —I almost didn’t. I was close to giving up, but then I—” He looks conflicted for a moment, the tips of his ears turning a delicate pink. He’s clearly too embarrassed to share the entire story. “It’s a long story, but basically Seungcheol took me in and saved my ass.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen and he sits up a little. “I was just about to ask how that happened because— _wow_. You live _here_ —with _him_. And you’re still in one piece.” He gasps and claps his hands. “That’s pretty amazing.”

Jihoon’s very silence sounds puzzled, Seungcheol can hear it.

“Uhm. I _guess_.” He says eventually, though his brows are twitching.

“It’s nice of him to invite me in—I really wasn’t expecting it.” Soonyoung smirks. His gaze darts in Seungcheol’s direction. “I was sure he’d rip my face off when I asked to pet him. I probably shouldn’t have done that.” He laughs nervously.

Jihoon shakes his head, confusion and amusement warring for a position on his face. “Seungcheol may seem gruff at first, but he’s really sweet. He didn’t _have_ to help me, especially after all the crap I caused, but he did. Even when nobody else would, he’s been there. He’s sweet, and generous and so h-” Jihoon bites off whatever word he wants to use and struggles for a better one instead.

Seungcheol finds himself unconsciously leaning closer, straining for the end of that sentence.

“He even made me a vampire den to sleep in.” Jihoon finishes with a blush, glancing Seungcheol’s way, a little slide of his eyes. Unfortunately, Soonyoung is still looking at Jihoon when he does this, so he looks Seungcheol’s way, too, and suddenly Seungcheol’s being _stared_ at.

He tries not to fidget too much when he smiles back neutrally.

“Woah. He’s so cool. Don’t you think he’s the _coolest_?” Soonyoung says, and there's definitely something disturbingly dreamy about the look he directs at Seungcheol.

Jihoon’s eyes lift, meet Seungcheol’s, and then slide away. His lips quirk at the corners, showing a glimmer of fang, “ _Yeah_ , he is.”

Seungcheol feels something warm curling in his chest and fights the urge to smile and blush and give himself away. But it’s really dam hard; he’s never been called _cool_ in his whole life.

“I knew he was different when I met him. Usually Lycan’s are really vicious, growly and angry—but he was pretty calm and didn’t try to kill me at all.” Soonyoung says. His voice takes on a faraway quality. “When our eyes met across the tower of canned peaches, I knew he was special. That’s why I followed him home. And now we’re best friends.”

Jihoon eyeballs Soonyoung for a long minute, apparently too stunned to speak.

Seungcheol sighs and pinches his brow, expecting the inevitable questions from Jihoon’s lightbulb moment that will out him from his Wolfy closet. But when he glances up, the expression on Jihoon’s face is awkwardly uncomfortable but reassuringly clueless.

Instead of saying anything else, Jihoon excuses himself, pushes his stool away from the table, climbs down (aww) and pads over to where Seungcheol’s sprawled on the couch.

Taking a seat next to him, he tugs on Seungcheol’s sleeve and whispers low enough that only he can hear, “Cheol—I think you’re right about that guy being really weird. I’m beginning to think he’s not your best friend.”

Seungcheol snorts. “Oh, so _now_ you believe me.”

Jihoon slants him an amused look. “I don’t think he’s dangerous Cheol, but _yeah_ —some of the stuff he’s saying doesn’t make sense.

Seungcheol feels a pang of guilt at that; it’s not Soonyoung’s fault that Seungcheol’s been less than transparent about what he is.

Cautiously, Seungcheol rests a hand on the back of Jihoon's neck. Jihoon leans into it, some tension flowing out of him with a relief Seungcheol feels viscerally. “Well, just ask him the questions you need so he can go.”

Jihoon shrugs, “He doesn’t seem to know that much.” He pauses, looking over at Soonyoung in the kitchen. “I feel kind of sorry for him. I _think_ he’s a baby vampire too.”

Seungcheol looks at Soonyoung from the corner of his eye, unsure of how to approach this, whether he should. “How old did he say he was?”

“I’m twenty.” Answers Soonyoung, whose hearing is apparently sharper than Seungcheol thought.

Seungcheol holds in a frustrated sigh. “And in _vampire_ years.” He asks, slowly and condescendingly. He's starting to see where this is going.

“Oh—uhm.” Soonyoung’s brows furrow in confusion for a moment, then smooth out. “ _One_? I think.”

Seungcheol does finally sign this time. “ _Great_.”

It’s official. Two baby vampires.

* * *

Turns out Soonyoung’s an _abandoned_ baby vampire.

His story’s a real tear jerker. The stuff Korean Vampire Dramas are made of.

He had a consensual conversion almost _twelve_ months ago, and a blossoming relationship with his progenitor, until the man was killed _six_ months ago. With no backing or status in his original coven, he was forced out and had to find a job to support himself. He informs Seungcheol that he lives in Deadlow heights, a government run vampire housing association that Seungcheol’s more than familiar with. It’s not a pleasant place to live and is frequently targeted by Anti-Fang groups so Seungcheol doesn’t blame him for trying to branch out and ‘make friends’.

Seungcheol, despite himself, feels a little sorry for Soonyoung and that’s probably why he lets him stay for dinner. Which turns out to be the lasagne he's been meaning to make for some time.

With Jihoon _and_ Soonyoung’s help, Seungcheol makes everything from scratch; the tomato sauce, the bechamel, even his own fucking pasta sheets. Which, Jesus, _never again._

What the hell was he thinking? There's flour everywhere. But he supposes it's worth it in the end, because the lasagne turns out to be _amazing_ and he feels less guilty about putting the vampires to work after, cleaning up the mess and washing up the dishes too.

Baby vampires might as well be useful while they’re in his house and eating all his food.

“I should go, I’ve taken up enough of your time.” Soonyoung smiles sheepishly, pulling on his hoodie. “Thanks for letting me stay, and thanks for dinner. I...I haven't had a warm meal in ages, and it was nice sharing it with people.”

Seungcheol waves him off, an airy gesture, despite the painful knot forming in his throat. “Don’t mention it.”

They walk Soonyoung to the door, Jihoon leading the way and Seungcheol hanging back a little.

“We should hang out again sometime.” Soonyoung says, giving Jihoon a hug at the open door. He turns to Seungcheol and hesitates, hands folding in complicated ways.

“Aw Jesus, what is it now?” Seungcheol sighs heavily.

Soonyoung really _looks_ at him for a moment. His mouth is a thin line, eyes gone narrow, and dark, and Seungcheol gets the impression he's thinking about hugging him too.

Finally, he opens his mouth and says, “Can I pet-“

“No.” Seungcheol interjects swiftly.

“Okay, okay.” Soonyoung sulks, shoulders slumping. “Worth a shot.”

* * *

Once Soonyoung’s safely on his way, and the doors locked and bolted, Jihoon rejoins Seungcheol in the kitchen.

“Has your thirst for vampire curiosity been quenched?” Seungcheol opens the fridge door, stares inside, and closes it again. “Or am I going to have to put up with him again in the near future?”

Jihoon turns slowly to face him, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. “Seungcheol, I don’t know how to break this to you but—Soonyoung’s just asked _me_ to ask _you_ , if you liked playing Frisbee and would you like to go to the park with him sometime.”

Seungcheol presses his forehead against the fridge door and sighs. “Oh—god.”

Jihoon crosses his arms and leans back against the counter “Why did he keep asking to pet you?” he asks, laughing slightly. 

Seungcheol snorts, twisting to lean again the fridge and rubbing a tired hand over his face. “Beats me.” He shrugs uncomfortably. “I guess I’m really pettable or something.”

“Mmm,” Jihoon rumbles lengthily in his throat, giving him a head-to-toe-and-back-again once over that is a little too slow to be completely guileless.

“Only one way to find out.” Is all he says before he steps closer and reaches up to rest his hand on Seungcheol’s head.

For a minute, all they do is just blink at each other. Then Jihoon strokes his hand tentatively over the top of Seungcheol’s hair and round to his nape, before lifting it back to the crown again, and setting a petting motion.

Seungcheol opens and shuts his mouth a few _thousand_ times, struggling to come up with anything coherent to share.

He was expecting the Lycan in him to object to this in some way, to come crashing out of its cage snarling and frothing at the mouth. But instead he finds himself swallowing down a happy whine, dipping his head forward obediently and exposing the nape of his neck in what is clearly a request.

Jihoon chuckles and rubs two fingers along the bump at the top of his spine. “I think Soonyoung was right Cheollie, you _are_ very pettable.” He murmurs, pushing his fingertips into Seungcheol's scalp in a move that will utterly destroy the sleek, product-sculpted line of his hair.

Seungcheol shivers involuntarily, letting his eyes slide shut.

Unconsciously, he pushes at Jihoon’s hand, moving so Jihoon’s fingers are behind his ear, and Jihoon takes the hint and scratches. Seungcheol doesn’t mean to make the noise, but an eager whimper escapes his throat before he knows it’s happening.

“You like that?” Jihoon asks, voice soft and sweet, his breath close enough to move the hairs nearest Seungcheol's ear.

Seungcheol shivers again, letting his lips part in a quiet, heated huff. He's never felt so hot and so shivery at the same time. Of course, he's never had anyone pet him either. Not seriously, anyway. But combined with the way Jihoon’s kneading his scalp, gentle fingers stimulating all the right places, all pretence of control has flown right out the window.

He butts his head against Jihoon’s palm again, and this time Jihoon adds his other hand so he’s scratching behind both ears.

“Who’s a good boy?” Jihoon whispers, running impulsive fingers through the fringe of hair now drooping over Seungcheol’s closed eyes.

Seungcheol’s eyelids flutter open, and he blinks rapidly as he considers the question.

“Uh— _I am?”_ He answers, uncertainly.

It must be him.

There’s nobody else here.

He _must_ be the bestest boy.

There better not be anybody else!

“Yeah. You are.” Jihoon says, giving him a quick scratch under the chin and- oh that's an interesting sensation.

“Such a good boy.” Jihoon giggles, fingertips moving to ruffle the short hairs at Seungcheol’s nape. He smiles at him so fondly, Seungcheol feels a tightness in his chest.

 _“T-thanks.”_ Seungcheol lets out a pleased huff, causing Jihoon to giggle more.

Encouraged, Jihoon digs his fingers into the thicker hair over the crown and kneads in a slow, circular motion.

Seungcheol doesn’t know what sounds he’s making now, but he’s sure there must be plenty. He feels great, better than great. His muscles feel loose and relaxed, every nerve ending dulled and soft. If Jihoon keeps this up Seungcheol might have to stretch out on the floor, roll over onto his back and….

“Are you— _purring_?” Jihoon asks suddenly, scratching Seungcheol under the chin again.

Seungcheol launches himself out of the fantasy and away from Jihoon’s side, opening his eyes to find Jihoon watching him intently. There’s a small smile on Jihoon’s lips, but his eyebrows are high, high, high on his forehead.

Seungcheol drags a hand across his heated face, forcing his mind clear of the lusty, Jihoon-induced fog and wishing he could so easily wipe away the last five minutes.

“No. That was my stomach….digesting.” He says, his voice is a mess and the words run together, come out breathless. He catches himself shuffling his feet. Like a damned schoolboy with a crush.

Jihoon continues to look surprised for a second, then he rolls his eyes and it's like his face is his own again, all eyebrows and mouth and interested tilt. “Yeah, sure. I think you were enjoying that Seungcheol. I think you really like getting petted. Maybe I should rub your belly next.” He snickers.

Seungcheol roll his eyes right back at him and pretends like this conversation isn’t making him want to crawl into a hole.

It’s humiliating to hear Jihoon reduce his Lycan traits to such silly, embarrassing terms. It’s not like Seungcheol has much control over how he reacts to a good ol’ petting session. And Jihoon was scratching behind his ears for fucks sake—that’s like Lycan Kryptonite.

“Is that the time?” Seungcheol announces, glancing quickly at his watch-less wrist. “Wow, it’s later that I expected.” He tries for a yawn, but it comes out _so_ fake he has to do the wide arm stretch to accompany it and hope that compensates for the supreme fakeness.

Jihoon watches him fake yawn with narrowed eyes and sighs, loud enough for Seungcheol to know it's meant to be mocking.

“We should go to bed.” Seungcheol says, then quickly amends. “ _Separately of course_. In our separate beds.”

He cringes a bit at his clumsy wording and actually considers fake yawning some more.

“ _Seungcheol_.” Jihoon drawls, tone rich with amusement.

“Goodnight Jihoon.” Seungcheol blurts out awkwardly, rushing towards the bedroom without so much as a backward glance. 

He really doesn’t think he can handle any more humiliation tonight.

* * *

Seungcheol keeps his eyes closed and faces away from the door when he hears Jihoon enter the room.

Footsteps wander closer, less tense than before, less heavy, a soft meandering wander of feet. Then he hears the closet door creak open, and Jihoon whispering “Night Cheol.” as he slips in to his den.

Only then does Seungcheol allow himself to relax and open his eyes, to listen to Jihoon getting ready on the other side of the door.

Jihoon gets ready for bed at a slower pace than normal. Seungcheol can hear the muted thump of the cabinet drawer, the drag of cloth over skin, slow, half-lazy movements that end in the flick of a light switch and the faint creak of futon springs as Jihoon climbs into bed.

It's a miserable night out, drizzle hitting the window in a hard-running trail in what’s becoming a familiar sound. Seungcheol tries to concentrate on that. The tapping of rain on glass.

But it's a losing battle, because soon there's something breathless under the water; shivers of sound caught before they're even half formed.

Seungcheol shakes his head and rolls onto his stomach, pushing his face into the pillow.

There are things you carefully pretend you don't notice when your sense are sharper than normal, things you're obliged not to notice for a peaceful life, for something close to a normal life. It makes everything easier if you pretend you don't notice a lot of things.

Things like your vampire housemate masturbating in his vampire den for instance.

Yeah, Seungcheol _probably_ shouldn’t be listening into that—no matter what his Lycan wants.

Seungcheol tries to will himself to sleep for a few fruitless minutes, but there's a purring in his chest and an erection between his legs that tells him he's failed.

Turning onto his back, he frowns at the ceiling in silence.

There’s hardly six feet of space between them—so Jihoon must realise he can hear this. If Seungcheol can hear him snoring, he can hear him jerking off.

Not that it justifies listening in or getting off on it, of course. But it certainly makes Seungcheol _feel_ better when he stops restraining himself altogether and starts focusing on the sounds drifting from the closet. If he slows his breath just right, he can clearly hear the wet slap of a hand on skin, the near silent catch of air.

Pretending not to notice things is easy, ignoring them is not. Especially when Jihoon’s rhythm falters, and his breath free falls a second later, not half as controlled but broken into pieces as he gasps out one word.

“Cheol.”

 _Jesus_.


	6. At Dawn They Sleep

Seungcheol may have lived and learned enough to master self-control, but he's not actually masochistic. There is no fucking way he’s sleeping tonight with Jihoon touching himself a scant few feet away and _moaning_ his name.

He needs to get out of here before he does something decisive and irrevocable. Even if Jihoon _knows_ he can hear him. Even if this is some kind of _invitation_ —Seungcheol can’t act on it right now. Jihoon doesn’t know what he _is_ , doesn’t know the danger he’s inviting.

There's a short moment, when he’s grabbing a pair of jeans and fumbling out the bedroom door (a few minutes after he hears the breathless gasp of his name), when Seungcheol can smell Jihoon’s scent _sweeten_.

It hits him like a freight train, making his vision blur and saliva pool in his mouth. Stumbling into the corridor, he barely manages to get shoes on before he is rushing out the front door, ignoring the bite of cold air and trying to fixate on something else: the smell of roasted chicken from the restaurant down the street, loud yelling coming from the alleyway where two drunks are fighting it out, the corner of a building where some dog has marked his territory—anything but the sweet, honeyed tonal notes of Jihoon’s body chemistry that are driving Seungcheol’s Lycan side nearly out of its mind.

Heading towards the outskirts of the woods at inhuman speed, Seungcheol is rock hard. He can already feel his fangs lengthening, can feel his fingers turning to claws as he strips out of his clothes and takes in big gulps of fresh air, trying to control himself. It’s only good fortune that brings a deer into view a moment later and he can free himself and go bounding off after it.

He wishes these hunting instincts were easier to pack away, but sometimes you have to give in; a second here or there where you let yourself think about it, let yourself indulge, let yourself live in that moment. And it's better to do it here, better to do it somewhere safe, somewhere he doesn't have to hold on so tightly.

It would only be better if he had Jihoon running with him, body pressed against his as they darted through the trees, chasing each other. Seungcheol would catch him eventually, roll him onto his back and scent Jihoon in all those places where his smell would be strongest—his neck, under his arms, between his legs. Seungcheol would press his nose to each of those places, breath in that heady scent and roll in it till that scent is indistinguishable from this own.

It's crazy to think of doing it with anyone that wasn't a Lycan, even crazier to think of a Vampire in that respect. But with Jihoon safely out of reach, Seungcheol allows himself to picture what he wants. He pictures Jihoon spread out under him, naked and breathless, clutching his shoulders—taking his cock inch by inch, gasping and squeezing down around him. Seungcheol’s Lycan side would want it traditional, of course, and he’d mount Jihoon from behind, marking his claim and knotting him full.

Oh fuck—he could _actually_ knot Jihoon. Jihoon could _handle_ it.

A minute later and with a dead deer at his feet—he still doesn’t feel any saner. The moon rises above the bare trees, a white grin—tempting his Lycan to stay out a little longer and that is all the impetus Seungcheol needs.

The forest is a liquid blur as he races through it, needing to get it all out of his system, and he doesn’t stop until the pale glow of the moon is slowly overtaken by the strengthening dawn.

* * *

Seungcheol only returns home when he can pass for human again and his heartbeat is trailing back into steady, careful, normal.

He can smell Jihoon even when he’s still miles away from the house; even through the satisfied languor of having just hunted, the heavenly scent grows stronger as he steps through the door, and into the house.

He doesn't expect to find Jihoon awake though, 6.34am is _technically_ bedtime for his nocturnal housemate, but when he steps into the the kitchen, he finds Jihoon already on his second cup of coffee and compiling the ingredients for a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich.

He's standing at the chopping board, introducing a tomato to a very sharp knife with rather obvious consequences. He’s in his bare feet, wearing jeans and a threadbare T-shirt that had once belonged to Seungcheol, the sight of which makes Seungcheol’s heart go too fast and his gut churn in a way that suggests he very much wants to wolf out again.

Jihoon's jeans are missing a belt this morning, and have given in to gravity, slithering down his slim waist to hang precariously on his sharp hipbones, low enough that there's the barest hint of curve at the back.

His baby vampire has thankfully been gaining weight, though if Seungcheol wanted to, he could probably get both hands around Jihoon's waist.

Then he spends a strange moment actually trying to decide if he _should._

"I’m making grilled cheese, you want one?" Jihoon asks without looking up.

"Yes please." Seungcheol nods.

Jihoon hooks two more slices of bread out of the bag and goes back to his tomatoes, and Seungcheol parks his hip against the counter to watch him work.

The sight of Jihoon cooking in the kitchen isn't exactly a rarity that demands an audience, but it's been a weirder than usual morning and the mundanity of grilled cheese is enough to lull Seungcheol into something that's close to indulgent. Besides, it's his day off work today, so he's allowed to stand and watch his baby vampire as long as he wants.

Though the moment right after he has that thought, there's a pause in Jihoon's intent tomato slicing, which is curious until Seungcheol realises that Jihoon has noticed him looking. Perhaps noticed that his looking is more _focused_ than usual.

Seungcheol flounders for something to fill the silence, ends up staring at the fall of neatly sliced tomato and blurting out, "Did you sleep well?"

The knife comes to an abrupt stop, abrupt enough that for a second Seungcheol is afraid Jihoon has chopped his own fingers off.

Jihoon twists his head just a little, making his eyelashes stand out against his cheeks. There's an odd sharpness to that image, something Seungcheol thinks he'll remember still when he's old and everything else has faded away.

“Yes. Slept like a baby.” He says quietly, he tips his head back over his shoulder, fixes Seungcheol with a pointed look that impossible to shrug off or look away from. "And you? You don’t look like you slept at all. Where have you been?"

Seungcheol glances down at himself, at the rumpled clothes and the dirt under his fingernails. “Oh, uhm—yeah. I was a little restless, so I decided to go for a jog.” he says, keeping his voice light.

There's a long strange moment where Jihoon opens his mouth to say something, but fails to dredge up a single word. His head turns back and the knife is slicing again, but slower than before.

There's now more than enough sliced tomato for a tomato grilled cheese sandwich. Actually, there's enough sliced tomato to make some sort of artistic _display_. Jihoon is slicing tomatoes on automatic clearly, distracted with Seungcheol’s eyes on his back.

Seungcheol decides to stop staring like a creep and make himself useful by brewing another pot of coffee. He reaches to grab the cups off the draining board, just as Jihoon reaches to open a high cupboard beside the fridge, so they end up interrupting each other halfway.

Instead of stepping back and letting Jihoon fetch whatever he wanted first, which is what he should be doing here, something (probably the Lycan) makes Seungcheol redirect his intentions. He steps right in close, right behind Jihoon, possessive and entitled, and reaches his arm high to parallel Jihoon's. He flattens his palm against the cupboard door Jihoon has just started to open, and closes it with an abrupt snap.

Jihoon doesn't let go of the cupboard handle, and Seungcheol doesn't lower his arm. He waits a beat, then rests his other hand on the countertop to Jihoon's left, bracketing the Vampire on both sides and leaning in.

Pressed against him like this, Seungcheol can feel the tension tightening Jihoon's body.

Jihoon swallows and Seungcheol watches the bob of his Adam’s apple and bites his lip hard enough to taste blood. It's all he can do not to press a kiss to the smooth, inviting skin just below the ear.

Fuck, Jihoon is _right there_ , and Seungcheol forces himself to inhale slowly—to ground himself in the moment. He noses lightly at the shell of Jihoon's ear, letting his breath ghost out on a shallow sigh.

They hold that way, taut and still, for an impossibly long moment.

Jihoon moves first, turning just his head, just slightly to the right. Just enough to whisper a barely audible, "I was just going to fetch some plates.”

The movement offers up even more of Jihoon's throat, pale and tempting, and Seungcheol is practically nuzzling him—just wants _closer_ , god damn it—as he answers with a low, murmured, "I’ll fetch them for you."

He nips Jihoon then, just below the ear, imbibing the soft flesh with the smallest amount of pressure.

There's a sharp intake of breath that turns into a swearword, then a full body shiver. Jihoon lets out a quiet moan, hand sliding off the cupboard handle and dropping to his side.

Seungcheol comes back to himself a little at that, blinking away the haze of lust as his thoughts begin to focus, still clawing with animal need but gaining depth and clarity. His rational brain is telling him to back off, so he quickly fetches two plates from the cupboard and steps back out of Jihoon’s space.

Surrendering the contact takes more effort than it should, and by now Seungcheol more than a little irritated with himself. He didn’t just spend all night wolfing out in the forest to come home and breathe down Jihoon’s neck. He was trying to avoid this, but as usual, his Lycan side is a wilful hurricane twisting his emotions around and trying to make him _indulge_.

Jihoon’s the closest Seungcheol’s ever come to losing his composure, something he’s worked damn hard at and if Seungcheol submits to those urges now, he fears becoming that creature again; the one that acts on instinct and blood rather than the reformed person Jihoon knows.

It’s not Jihoon’s fault that Seungcheol’s a bad, bad man for everything he’s been thinking and feeling. It’s not Jihoon’s fault that he’s a tease and that he smells good enough to mate and eat.

Well, okay—maybe it is a _little_ bit, but it’s not his fault Seungcheol’s being driven mad by secrets of his own.

Jihoon matters to him a whole lot more than he likes thinking about. He’s the first real friend Seungcheol’s made in a long time, and while he doesn’t want to start pushing Jihoon away, he doesn’t know how to handle himself.

Thankfully, the rest of the food prep goes by uneventfully, and they eat together in strained silence.

Every few bites they look up and smile at each other, until there’s nothing left on their plates to distract them.

“So—” Seungcheol pauses to dump their plates in the sink. He swallows hard and sucks his lower lip between his teeth, biting it just a little too hard. “Got any plans for the day?”

Jihoon shakes his head. “Not really. I was just going to go to my den, maybe read a book or something.” he says, so soft that Seungcheol has to strain to hear him,

“Why don’t you read your book out here?”

Jihoon’s expression goes pinched around the edges.

The silence that threatens to settle between them is stretched and strained, and finally Jihoon's face softens and he says, "I was going to, but I—" He pauses and turns away, and the discomfort sits like a painful weight across his shoulders. “I didn’t want to bother you.” He says, voice quieter than before

Seungcheol winces a little at that. The last thing he wants is Jihoon to start avoiding him out of some misplaced awkwardness. He can’t deal with that. _He’s_ the one at fault here. He _needs_ to be in control of the animal inside him.

Seungcheol takes a deep breath, exhales, and lets his shoulder drop. “You’re not bothering me.” He says, much more calmly than he feels. “I was going to watch a movie actually. I thought we could watch one together. I’ll let you pick this time. We can even watch Twilight if you want.”

Jihoon gives him a frustrated look, but it's the fun kind of frustrated. “I bring _one_ Twilight book home, and you never let me live it down.”

Seungcheol laughs, low and sleek, and says, “Some sins can never be erased Jihoon, regardless of how much you repent.”

There's a tense millisecond where he doesn't know which way Jihoon will jump.

When Jihoon flops down on the couch and starts flicking through Netflix, Seungcheol is so fucking relieved he could burst with it.

Cautiously, he takes a seat next to Jihoon. Not too close to be considered an invasion of space, but not too distant that Jihoon could misinterpret it for avoidance. It hardly matters in the end, because Jihoon just closes the distance and scoots over, handing him the remote.

“So, what are we watching?” Seungcheol asks brightly.

“I don’t mind. You can choose.” Jihoon says, leaning sideways with a contented sigh, rubbing shoulders with him. 

* * *

Seungcheol decides pretty quickly that the only respectable course of action is to acclimatise himself to Jihoon’s presence. If he’s going to have anything with Jihoon—and he really wants to—he needs to be right up in Jihoon’s space and maintain control. 

He goes about it subtly at first. He gets too close whenever he reaches past Jihoon for something. Takes to setting a hand at the small of Jihoon's back whenever he can get away with it, a hand at the nape of his neck whenever he peers at something over Jihoon's shoulder. He sits closer than strictly necessary, inhales Jihoon’s scent when he passes him in the corridor, in the kitchen, when he’s napping on the couch—wherever the opportunity presents itself, really.

His efforts don't go unnoticed. Jihoon responds _so_ beautifully to the attention that it banishes Seungcheol’s lingering uncertainty about letting something grow between them. Jihoon still scowls for Korea of course, but there’s always a smile threatening his lips when he catches Seungcheol doing something weird.

Seungcheol almost can’t believe his luck. Jihoon accepts his weirdness—he likes spending time with him despite it.

As the days pass, he gravitates towards Seungcheol naturally, like a reliable orbiting moon. He seeks Seungcheol out first thing every morning, waits up for him to get back from work, never goes to bed without stopping to say goodnight. He shares wide, bright grins with Soonyoung, but his softest, warmest smiles are for Seungcheol. He even saves a spot on the couch for Seungcheol right in the middle between himself and Soonyoung, like Seungcheol _belongs_ there, like Jihoon has carved out space for him, and has no intention of letting anyone else fill it. Seungcheol thinks he should feel embarrassed about how ludicrous and fanciful that sounds. But he's too old to lie to himself, too old to do anything other than make short, token protests about the awful movie they’ve decided and watch as they eat all his popcorn. 

Jihoon gets this look in his eyes sometimes, wistful and wanting, and Seungcheol is sure he reflects the same look back.

He's got it bad, and he quickly comes to realize: he can't come back from this.

He's already too far gone.

But as the days stretch by and Seungcheol watches Jihoon orbit him, he feels guilt settle low and stubborn in his heart. Unfortunately, now that Seungcheol knows what the final score is, he accepts that he can’t make a move until he lays down all the facts to Jihoon.

That is easier said than done.

It’s a difficult conversation to have, telling Jihoon what he is.

What the hell is he even supposed to say?

_‘Do you like Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’? How about I re-enact the opening scene for you in the living room? But without the music—or the zombies—or the kick ass dancing.’_

Seungcheol starts it a hundred times but never manages to get past the first sentence without skidding off to something else.

_“Jihoon—I need to tell you something…… I want to buy a waffle iron.”_

_“Listen, Jihoon. There’s something you need to know. I…… love cocktail sausages more than full sized ones.”_

_“I don’t know how to tell you this Jihoon, but I…… don’t think I can wait for dinner. I’m going to order pizza now.”_

With each failed attempt, Seungcheol feels like nothing so much as a coward and he’s pretty sure Jihoon thinks he’s got an eating disorder or something.

It’s ridiculously frustrating. He’s never had to sit somebody down and explain it all before, because people just _knew_ or didn’t have to know at all, so Seungcheol is left struggling with the most appropriate opening for his reveal.

He supposes he could just up and Wolf out in front of him, but he’s terrified Jihoon would run a mile.

He was half hoping Soonyoung would reveal all in one of his many visits (read: _intrusions_ ). But the other vampire seems to have cottoned on that Jihoon doesn’t know, and now makes vague references to Seungcheol’s ‘ _wolfyness’_ that completely go over Jihoon’s head.

Soonyoung even winks at him after, as if to say: ‘your secret is safe with me’.

At least, Seungcheol _hopes_ that’s what he’s winking about. He _really_ hopes.

There have been no further requests to pet him, but if Soonyoung starts blowing kisses to accompany those winks, they’re going to have a problem.

* * *

Seungcheol steps off the bus, a plastic shopping bag dangling from his fingers.

He’s bought more orange juice on his way back from work, because they always seem to need freaking orange juice. Seungcheol's not sure where it all goes. He's not sure how, or why they _always_ need orange juice.

It's not like he drinks that much of it.

Maybe Jihoon's using it in some sort of Vitamin C-related vampire experiment that he hasn't seen fit to share with the class? Or maybe he’s bathing in it. Seungcheol wonders if they do orange juice with a child-proof cap. Probably not, since there's nothing inherently dangerous about orange juice.

He’s still thinking about what Jihoon does with the practically commercial quantities of orange juice he buys when he gets home and sets the carton in the fridge, only to realise Jihoon is nowhere in sight.

That’s unusual.

Seungcheol tries not to panic about that. And mostly fails.

Where is his baby vampire?

Jihoon’s _usually_ in plain sight when he gets home, either standing in the kitchen or sprawled on the couch, usually telling him he needs to buy more orange juice.

“Jihoon?” Seungcheol calls anxiously.

“Up here,” Jihoon yells. There's a thump from the roof, and Seungcheol follows the noise into the hallway with a wary sort of curiosity.

The attic stairs in the hall are down, and a small shudder of horror travels through Seungcheol at the implications. Seungcheol’s a big bad wolf that has stared death in the face and then promptly eaten him, but one fat, juicy spider is enough to give him a shudder.

When he hears another, worrying thud, he climbs up the stairs, spiders be damned. There’s a light shining down from the opening in the attic; Jihoon had installed a light, at least. 

When he sets his foot on the landing, he finds Jihoon rifling through some boxes stacked against the wall.

“I bought orange juice, with any luck it won't all disappear into some netherworld when I'm not looking this time." Seungcheol says.

Jihoon is engrossed, or is pretending to be engrossed, in a box of dubious origin and doesn’t look up when he asks, “Awesome. What took you so long? Did you work overtime?”

It's strange how slow time seems to move for Jihoon when he’s at work. The vampire is restless and Seungcheol’s only been gone for—Seungcheol checks his watch— _six_ hours now, not even a full shift. Seungcheol thinks Jihoon shouldn't even be used to his presence yet, let alone to the point where being left on his own for a few hours makes him anxious.

Then again, very possibly it's the boredom that's gnawing at Jihoon's nerves.

Seungcheol picks his way through the open boxes spread out on the floor until he reaches Jihoon.

“Cabin fever officially hit, huh?” Seungcheol asks, nodding at the mess Jihoon has made.

Jihoon ignores the question entirely. “I thought I’d make myself useful and organise the attic space. You’ve got a lot of crap up here—did you know that?”

“Yes—thank you. It’s _my_ crap.” Seungcheol replies flatly.

“Really?” Jihoon gives a nervous little laugh as he stands and dusts himself off. “I don’t think so. I think a lot of this stuff has been left behind by the previous owners. Some of it is _hella_ old.”

He kneels on the splintered floor and pulls one of the boxes to him, flipping it open and producing the contents. “Like—look at these swords. And these weird books.” Jihoon holds up one of the books – a book so old it just about falls apart in his hands. “They’re practically falling apart they’re _that_ old.”

“They’re not _that_ old—they’re vintage. They have character.” Seungcheol frowns, ignoring how pretentious he sounds all of a sudden.

“They’re _ancient_ Seungcheol.” Jihoon declares dryly, shaking his head.

“No, they’re not.” Seungcheol says crossly, or as crossly as he can manage anyway while eyeing an unfairly large spider-web in the corner. The stuff he stores up here is at most _three_ hundred years old. Things have to be _way_ older than that before they’re classified as ancient.

The next box Jihoon opens holds much of the same. The one after that is a little better: it has some old leather-bound books in reasonably good condition. These at least Jihoon seems to appreciate, taking great care to pry apart the pages and coo over the foreign scripture.

“Why did you keep these?” Jihoon asks, placing the book back in the box.

“I kept them because it’s mine. I owned them once and I kept them. People generally keep things that belong to them— _god_!” Seungcheol says, peevish at having to explain the concept of possessions to Jihoon.

“So—is this yours too?” Jihoon asks, lifting a dried tree branch from the box and waving it at him in a strangely _tantalizing_ way.

“Branchy!” Seungcheol declares with a joyous grin, recognizing the stick in Jihoon’s hand. 

Jihoon arches an eyebrow at him, half lifted in question. “ _Branchy_? You seriously named this piece of junk?”

“It’s not junk!” Seungcheol huffs, pacing the creaking floors and swiping the stick from Jihoon’s hand. “It’s Branchy. It’s sentimental.” He murmurs, holding the stick protectively against his chest, in case Jihoon hurt its feelings. 

Jihoon raises an eyebrow at him. _“It’s a stick.”_

Seungcheol frowns. His has half a mind to inform Jihoon this isn’t just any stick, it’s his _favourite_ stick. He’s had it since he was just forty-five years old, a young pup in Lycan years. He used to carry it with him everywhere, played with it daily and slept with it tucked close in his nest. He buried it once and forgot where, then howled for days until a rainstorm swept through the valley and washed it up. That was quite the adventure.

Lots of things have changed over the years, but Branchy has always been a comforting constant.

“Branchy was a big part of my life. Still _is_ a big part of my life.” Seungcheol says fiercely. Maybe in case anyone got any ideas about using Branchy as firewood or something.

Jihoon starts to say something, then cuts himself off and ducks his head. Seungcheol can see him snickering under his breath.

“Something funny?” Seungcheol huffs. “Excuse _you_ —nineteen-year-old baby vampire who hasn’t lived long enough to collect anything of value yet. Not everything has to look impressive for it to be worth something to someone. Maybe when you get older, somebody will point at your stuff and criticise it. See how you feel then.”

Jihoon’s eyebrows arch up. He opens his mouth to say something, shuts it again, and looks at the stick, considering it. “I’m,” He hesitates, brow furrowing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you or— _Branchy_. It’s erm—a very nice stick.”

Seungcheol strokes the branch, smiling. “Thanks.”

“You should put it on display.” Jihoon suggests, looking up at the stick again with narrowed eyes. “Maybe on the shelf in the living room, so everyone can appreciate it’s— _rustic beauty.”_

“Okay. Maybe I will.” Seungcheol grins, tucking Branchy under his arm.

Jihoon smiles warmly and goes back to his snooping. Seungcheol joins him this time. He takes a seat on the floor next to Jihoon and watches as the Vampire roots around a few more boxes, pulling out pieces and inspecting them—often eyeballing Seungcheol before returning them carefully.

Seungcheol himself is surprised at the number of possessions he’s accumulated over the years, he didn’t think he had the wherewithal to actually keep anything.

As a species, Lycans are generally nomadic, rarely committed much to staying in one place. Seungcheol has travelled to a degree seen rarely even in Lycan’s double his lifetime, worked and lived in more places than he is confident he can name. Then one day, he found himself craving something irrational: familiarity, solitude and a place to call his own.

That went down _about_ as well as expected with his 'pack'. He tries not to let the memory sour his mood.

He watches as Jihoon opens a damaged suitcase and pulls out some musty old clothes, wrapped in plastic. There’s some neon shit, like from the 80’s that make Jihoon giggle, and then some even older stuff like the vambrace from Seungcheol’s old plate armour. 

“Woah, woah, woah. What the fuck? _What is this?”_ Jihoon gasps, inspecting the piece.

Seungcheol shrugs and casually chews on his fingernail. “I dunno.”

Jihoon gives him a side-eye as he fingers the intricate carvings on the metal. He rummages around some more until his search produces a metal and leather chest piece. “Woah. This is—some kind of chest armour. It looks so authentic, I—” he pauses, then his expression dissolves into something delightfully amused.

“Oh my god—were you into some kind of medieval cosplay?” He gapes.

Seungcheol blinks at him. “What?”

“This all makes so much sense.” Jihoon says absently, outright grinning now. “The old books, the old clothes, the armour—you used to cosplay, _didn’t you.”_

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “No.”

“Yes, you did. Oh, god—and you called _me_ a nerd.” Jihoon snorts, good-natured.

Seungcheol doesn’t argue against that untruth.

He’d rather be falsely accused of _cosplaying_ than admit that he’s a four hundred-year-old Lycan and that the leather flap Jihoon’s sniffing suspiciously was once a codpiece used to cover his genitals.

“What is this?” Jihoon asks, eyeing the codpiece suspiciously. “A hat?”

“Sure.” Seungcheol shrugs.

Jihoon places the codpiece on his head and attempts to fasten it in place. Remarkably—it fits.

Seungcheol doesn’t feel the slightest bit guilty watching Jihoon admire his reflection in a dusty mirror with a genital flap on his head. Serves him right for going through Seungcheol’s stuff.

* * *

Seungcheol ducks into the shower after, to wash off the work grime, and he’s towelling his hair when he steps out into the living room to find Jihoon sprawled out on the couch, arms crossed behind his head, looking like a fucking three course meal.

Well— _almost_. The sexy, flawless, untouchable vampire effect is somewhat muted as he is still wearing the codpiece on his head.

Seungcheol's pretty sure he's supposed to be making fun of Jihoon right now, but he can't bring himself to do that—his baby vampire's foot is jumping in a most unpromising manner.

He gestures at the codpiece, “Jihoon—please take that off.” _You look ridiculous_. “It has sentimental value.” _My dick used to rest in there._

Jihoon scowls at him as he walks around the couch, lifting his feet so Seungcheol can take a seat underneath his legs. He unfastens the codpiece and sets it down next to him, resuming his tapping motion with his foot.

Seungcheol puts a hand on it to make it still, but that only makes Jihoon raise an eyebrow in irritation.

“What’s wrong?” Seungcheol asks.

Jihoon dramatically throws his arm over his eyes and sighs. “I’m bored.”

Seungcheol mentally rolls his eyes at him. “I’m sorry. Was the performing clown I hired not entertaining enough? I’ll try and get a rollercoaster installed in the bathroom tomorrow.”

Jihoon levels him a look that clearly says his sarcasm won’t be appreciated.

Seungcheol sighs, draping the towel over the armrest, “I know you’re bored Jihoonie. I lead a pretty boring life these days, but I appreciate the routine. You will too one day. Give it a few more weeks and it’ll be safe for you to venture outside by yourself again.”

“I’m not bored _now_ ,” Jihoon corrects, jabbing at Seungcheol with his foot. “I’m not bored when you’re here. But when you’re at work, time just _drags_. I’ve read everything, and there’s nothing on TV and so I just sit around waiting for you to get back.”

Seungcheol considers the ceiling for a beat. “How about you hang out with Soonyoung? You can set up your own baby vampire coven and recruit more baby vampires. If you have enough followers you could say—set up your own vampire football team. Just a suggestion.”

Jihoon levels him a flat look. “I’ll _pass_. Although—Soonyoung did imply that _you_ might like it if we went to the park and threw a ball around. Whatever that means.”

Seungcheol carefully doesn’t say anything in response to that. Even though he would like to.

That sounds like tremendous fun. There must be a ball somewhere in the attic.

“Besides, I can’t always rely on Soonyoung for entertainment. Soonyoung has a _job_.” Jihoon says pointedly.

“Okay. So, what are you suggesting?”

Jihoon sighs and averts his gaze. “I want a job.” he pouts.

“Oh.”

Which puts Seungcheol in a foul mood he can't rationalize, until he realizes he's _worried_. He doesn't like the thought of Jihoon out there, dodging the law and shady hunters on his tail without him. He wants to be supportive, he really does, but there is a part of him that is immensely relieved to know that Jihoon is tucked away safe and sound here when Seungcheol’s away.

“Okay. What _kind_ of job?” Seungcheol asks, trying hard for a neutral expression.

It's another second before Jihoon catches what Seungcheol actually said, and his gaze slides back to his. “You’re not angry?”

Seungcheol’s smile turns into a half-curve of his mouth, eyebrow twitching up momentarily.

“Why would I be angry? You want to work—that’s great. Responsible even. _Good baby vampire.”_

Jihoon brightens at that. “So, I can apply? I can get a job?” He says, with all the certainty of youth.

Seungcheol holds in a sigh, makes a noise of experience, or at least that's how he likes to think of it. _Of course_ Jihoon would think it was going to be _that_ easy.

“Sure. And I can help you prepare for your interview. In fact—lets practice now! We can roleplay.”

“Uh—okay.” Jihoon gives him a sudden, unexpectedly bright smile.

He jumps up off the couch, runs into the bathroom and shuts the door—which forces Seungcheol to replay the last few sentences in his head because he has no idea _why_ Jihoon’s just done that. That is until Jihoon knocks on the door, and—bless him—he’s really taking the interview roleplay seriously.

“Come in.” Seungcheol calls out, chuckling as he stands.

The bathroom door swings open, and Jihoon strides out with his super serious interview face apparently. He looks _constipated_.

“Hello, nice to meet you. I’m Mr Choi, the manager.” Seungcheol says, working a deeper voice as he shakes Jihoon’s hand.

“Hello. Uhm. I’m Jihoon.” Jihoon says, tightening his grip on Seungcheol hand painfully before letting go, because nothing says ‘hire me’ more than crushing your prospective employer’s hand.

“Thank you for taking the time to interview me. I’m—I’m really excited about this position.” He adds sensibly.

“That’s great to hear Jihoon. Please, take a seat.” Seungcheol smiles genially, gesturing to the couch. He retakes his seat, and then cuts right to the chase. “Before we get started, I’m going to need to see your work permit, birth certificate and or conversion certificate and Photo ID for legal reasons.”

Jihoon’s blinks at Seungcheol, as if what Seungcheol just said was an utterly foreign concept to him.

“I—I don’t have any of those.” He murmurs. There's something confused in Jihoon's tone, almost hurt.

“You don’t? Well—how the hell do you expect me to hire you without any of that paperwork? For all I know, you could be a wanted fugitive. Or a stray baby vampire for instance.” Seungcheol says from under raised eyebrows.

Jihoon looks at him in pure astonishment. “I—I didn’t know they’d need that stuff.”

“You _didn’t_ know your prospective employer would need proof of ID to let you work and pay you a salary?” He taps the centre of Jihoon's forehead as if to say _Think a little_.

“Getting a job isn’t a case of acing an interview and having skills. There are background checks. Lots of background checks, a whole _slew_ of background checks. Employers can get in a lot of trouble for hiring people without checking their right to work.” Seungcheol says, more vehemently than he intended.

He's not sure what he meant to say next but that's blocked, train of thought thrown clean off the lines by the defensive hunch of Jihoon's shoulders. Jihoon’s clearly annoyed that no one told him this before.

Seungcheol coughs and lowers his voice slightly. “Look Jihoon, you’re a stray. You can’t just go out there and start applying for jobs. When your progenitor first made you—he should have reported it to _legalize_ it, but he obviously didn’t so you don’t have a conversion certificate. If that wasn’t bad enough—you don’t have _any_ documentation to prove who you are. Without identification, you can’t get a job, you can’t earn money. Hell, you can’t even get medical treatment in some cities. You’re nobody without an ID. According to government, you don’t exist and never should have.”

Jihoon’s expression changes then, from one of frustration to one of pain; a blind look of hurt that Seungcheol is sure will haunt him for a long time.

“ _Okay_ , that came out sounding pretty harsh. But what I was _trying_ to say was: it’s going to be hard without falsifying a few things first.”

Jihoon doesn't react. He doesn't make any sort of verbal protest, or cutting remark, he just jumps off the couch leaves the room without a further word of explanation.

“Woah—where you going?” Seungcheol says, voice startled soft.

But Jihoon is already gone, hurried footsteps down the hall.

Seungcheol follows the vampire into the bedroom, just in time to see him disappear inside his den and hear the soft click of his closet door closing.

The lock turns.

Seungcheol blinks. _Oh shit._ This is not going as expected.

“Jihoon— _baby_.” Seungcheol begins softly, padding over to the door.

He hears a quiet sniffle.

Seungcheol groans. He could fucking _kick_ himself.

“Aw, no. Jihoonie— _don’t_. I, I didn’t mean it like that. Please don’t be sad with me.” Seungcheol says, after a short silence. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Another sniffle.

Seungcheol slumps against the door, pressing his forehead against it.

“I know I was being a dick, and I’m sorry. I was just trying to make a point and—it came out harshly. I’m sorry, please open the door.”

Jihoon doesn’t sniffle, but the silence is almost worse.

Seungcheol wants to kick the door in and wrestle Jihoon into a hug. But he doubts the intrusion would be appreciated right now.

Instead he sighs, grabs his jacket and heads out.

* * *

When Seungcheol returns from his little jaunt outside, Jihoon is still holed up in his den.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Seungcheol knocks on the door lightly. “Hey—it’s me. The _asshole_. Will you open the door? I—I _got_ you something.”

He’s greeted with nothing but silence. Seungcheol carries on anyway.

“Fine. I’ll describe it to you. It’s black— _your favourite colour_ , and it has _buttons_.” He sing-songs.

More silence.

“Okay, I’m shit at describing things, but it’s a shirt. I think I finally got your size right. I thought it would look good for when we go out to get photographs taken for your new ID.”

That, at least, gets Jihoon’s attention. There’s a creak of futon springs and the closet door opens just enough for Jihoon to poke his little head out. He's frowning, but it's not an angry frown. This is Jihoon's problem-solving face.

“But—how? I don’t have any of my old paperwork.”

Seungcheol waves a hand. “We’ll take it one step at a time. _First_ —we get some headshots. _Then_ —I _might_ know a guy, who knows a guy, who can help us with— _acquiring documentation.”_

Jihoon continues to scowl at him through the gap in the door as if he is a particularly challenging puzzle to solve.

“That sounds illegal.” He says in a tone which somehow manages to be both uncertain and strident.

Seungcheol snorts. “You bet your ass it’s illegal. But—it’s not _your_ fault you had a non-consensual conversion. It’s not fair that you have to struggle just cause the system is so ridiculously difficult to navigate.” He points out. Hell, he can even elaborate: “You deserve a life Jihoon, and I’m going to help you get it. If we have to break a few laws to get you a job at……wait—where _did_ you want to apply for anyway?”

“Petsmart.” Jihoon decides, possibly on the spur of the moment.

“Petsmart?” Seungcheol echoes. He has to work had to hide a smile. “You want to work at _petsmart_?”

“What’s wrong with petsmart?” Jihoon pouts, mildly offended. There’s a neat little furrow in the centre of his forehead and Seungcheol has to look away before he can be tempted to kiss it.

“Oh—no. Nothing.” Seungcheol shrugs affably. “Just hard to imagine is all.”

Actually, Seungcheol can imagine it just fine. But what he imagines is Jihoon being mistaken for a precious pet and somebody attempting to purchase him. _How much is that baby vampire in the window?_

Jihoon _would_ look good in a collar. A _lace_ collar.

Seungcheol coughs to cover the expression that thought makes his face slip into.

Jihoon’s own new and interesting expression tells him that he's clearly offended by whatever's going on in Seungcheol’s brain.

“It’s a fun job, okay. With good career progression and benefits.” Jihoon’s voice is conversational, though his eyebrows look quite angry. “And it will get me out of the house—and teach me important life lessons. And I like animals! I’ve always wanted to own a pet, but my grandparents couldn’t afford to let me have one. It’s a job I could excel at okay! I used to walk the neighbour’s dogs for free when I was growing up, because it was like having a pet, just not one I could keep at the end of the day. And Petsmart don’t discriminate against vampires, the advert said so. The advert was targeted specifically for vampires actually, because they need night-time shift workers to run the store and look after the pets after it closes.”

"Jihoonie," Seungcheol says again, as he's repeated at least three times during Jihoon’s little defensive hissy fit, "Okay, you're right. It sounds like a great idea. My bad. I know it probably seemed like I wasn’t coming across supportive, but I totally am."

“Really?” Jihoon says hopefully.

“Really.” Seungcheol nods. He drags a hand through his hair, smiles loosely. “You’ve clearly put a lot of thought into this and I’m impressed.”

Jihoon gives a self-deprecating little shrug, “I was thinking I could coincide my shifts with yours. Since you work night shifts mostly, I thought we could leave for work together and be _here_ together.” He says, and it's odd and stilted, like he's picking his words carefully.

Seungcheol lifts a hand to cup Jihoon’s chin, tipping his head up and pinning him with a steady gaze. “That sounds perfect. I’m on board with that. So, will you try on your shirt? If it fits, we’ll go to the mall tomorrow night and get your photographs taken.”

“Okay.” Jihoon murmurs.

He tugs the shirt out of Seungcheol’s hand and disappears into the closet. After a few minutes he emerges, looking uncertain; tugging down the hem of his shirt and rolling his shoulders awkwardly.

“How do I look?” He mumbles.

“Adorable.” Seungcheol promptly says, and Jihoon promptly scowls at him.

Seungcheol smirks. “Oh, I’m sorry. I meant— _employable_.”

Jihoon ducks his head and shares a smile with the floor.

* * *

Seungcheol accepts that going to the Mall for late night shopping is one of his less intelligent ideas. But he’s restricted by Jihoon’s extreme prejudice to sunlight, so they’ll just have to make do.

The minute they step through the sliding doors of the foyer, it’s as though somebody has pressed the pause button on a live stream.

Well—not _quite_. The humans are still milling around minding their own business, but the Vampires that have ventured to the mall tonight freeze in place, and slowly turns their heads towards him. Then a second later, slant their gaze towards Jihoon.

Then back to Seungcheol.

Then back to…..you get the picture.

Seungcheol would like to think it’s his overpowering animal magnetism making them behave this way, but it’s probably because of the baby vampire tucked close to his side, chattering a mile a minute and seemingly oblivious to the danger they _presume_ him to be in.

Jihoon does eventually notice their lingering gazes, and as they ascend to the second floor he taps Seungcheol’s arm gently.

“Cheol—uhm—is it just me, or are people staring?”

“Yes, Jihoon, they are.” Seungcheol says seriously, then ducks down to whisper in the vampire’s ear. "It’s because you look so fucking precious in your little shirt.”

Jihoon makes a noise that's half laughter and half interest. He rolls his eyes and thumps Seungcheol on the chest lightly, which earns several gasps from the vampires closest to them.

Jihoon blinks at the reaction. There is a subtle shifting to put more space between them, a vexed knitting of Jihoon's brow as the vampire tries to figure out exactly what this craziness is about.

He begins to withdraw his hand, but Seungcheol’s fingers close around Jihoon’s wrist, drawing him up short. He takes hold of hand—and without first consulting his brain, he presses a soft kiss to a knuckle.

The chaste gesture provokes approximately ten gasps, one faint spell and a _‘now I’ve seen everything’_ from their captive audience.

One of the gasps comes from Jihoon, who eyes him with confusion and suspicion. There'll be eye rolling in a minute too, Seungcheol can feel it coming. It's not quite as effective while Jihoon’s cheeks are bright pink. 

"What are you doing?” Jihoon asks, more lazily curious than scandalised. 

“You’ve got pretty hands. I was admiring them.” Seungcheol shrugs, admitting to his shamelessness without shame. At Jihoon’s emerging scowl, he quickly changes the subject. “There’s a good bookstore on the top floor. We should check it out.”

“Oh, yeah! We should! I heard it’s the biggest in Seoul.” Jihoon grins, and steers Seungcheol eagerly towards the escalators.

Seungcheol doesn't resist. He makes an intrigued noise instead and lets himself be steered, taking note that he now knows exactly how to knock Jihoon's train of thought off its carefully laid tracks.

After the bookshop, and another bookshop, _and_ a break stop for food, they get the photographs taken. Which in Seungcheol’s very biased opinion, are the most adorable passport photographs he’s ever seen.

They end up with two sets of pictures, because Jihoon didn’t think he looked _serious_ enough to hire in the first set, where his closed lip smile made his precious dimples poke through. The second set makes him look serious yet _constipated_ , which is apparently a much more employable quality. 

Jihoon smiles at him warm and shy as they leave the store, photographs in hand, and his fingers slide into Seungcheol’s like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Seungcheol relishes the contact. It buoys him up and fills him with confidence, and he thinks tonight— _tonight_ , finally he’ll explain things to Jihoon.

As they head towards the exit, Jihoon pulls him to a stop outside an electrical store to peer intently through the window.

At first, Seungcheol thinks he’s eyeing the hi-tech headphones that are on offer, but on further examination he seems to be watching the TV screen on display, broadcasting KBS local news briefs. In the next second, Jihoon’s hand slips out of his and the vampire is pressing his head to the window, watching the screen with disbelief, and something so complicated Seungcheol suspects even Jihoon doesn't know what it is.

Seungcheol blinks and he too turns his attention to the screen, listening in to the warbled noise coming through the speakers.

_“—most gruesome discovery he’s ever seen in his thirty years on the force. The library and surrounding buildings are still being searched for the rest of the victims remains, but authorities are certain now the body is that of Shin Hoon-Min, the chief librarian who has been missing since late last month.”_

Seungcheol feels the vampire stiffen next to him, holding his breath.

Seungcheol holds still, saying nothing.

 _“Officials are asking for any witnesses with information pertinent to the investigation to come forward.”_ The News anchor says, before the screen cuts to a police officer making a statement outside the Library.

_“As this is still an open investigation, I can’t divulge what we know. But what I can say is, this was a vicious attack that is clearly non-human in nature and our specialists are working around the clock to identify what could have done this.”_

Seungcheol holds back a snort. Good luck to them with _that_.

He chances a glance at Jihoon next to him and finds the vampire starring at the screen, deathly still. His eyes are so pale they look white, pupils tiny, and his skin's the colour of chalk. 

Seungcheol's a little tempted to poke him to see if he's fallen asleep with his eyes open - then immediately feels bad about it. His baby vampire is clearly in shock.

Slowly, Seungcheol reaches over and wraps a hand round Jihoon's shoulder. The vampire leans in to his touch easier than he's expecting.

“It’s that guy, it’s that guy— _that guy.”_ Jihoon’s saying frantically, over and over, like a child who doesn't understand. All soft breathless half panic and widened eyes.

“Jihoon, hey—it’s okay. Shhh.”

Jihoon turns his head and looks at him. Seungcheol can practically see the questions swarming in his eyes, but he doesn't dare explain.

"It’s okay.” Seungcheol tries again. “Relax. Let’s just get home."

Jihoon turns back to the screen, and stares until the News Anchor moves on to the next story, then exhales what sounds like all the air in his lungs. “Yeah, that’s—that’s probably a good idea.”

Seungcheol slips an unobtrusive hand into his and tugs him gently towards the exit.

On the bus ride home, Jihoon’s quieter than usual, and he clutches Seungcheol’s hand so tightly Seungcheol starts throwing him concerned looks, but he continues to keep his thoughts to himself. 

Jihoon disappears into his den soon after they return home, claiming fatigue. Seungcheol knows better but doesn’t question it; he knows Jihoon needs time to let that News report sink in.

His only regret is that he’s missed another opportunity to tell Jihoon, and now his big reveal will have to wait for another day.

* * *

“Cheol?”

His name is softly spoken, but in the midnight quiet of the room Seungcheol has no trouble hearing it.

He jerks up to find Jihoon standing at the foot of his bed.

His hair is a bit wild and his eyes are red—well, bloodshot anyway. He doesn't look like he's been sleeping any better than Seungcheol has.

“What’s up?” Seungcheol asks softly.

“Umm.” Jihoon clearly thinks about telling him it’s nothing. He sees it in his eyes. Then he scrubs his hand over his face and says, “I don't know. I was just trying to sleep, but I couldn’t stop thinking.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“ _Everything_.” Jihoon accompanies this with a meaningful look. This would be more helpful if he told Seungcheol the actual meaning.

“Could you be more specific?” Seungcheol says, when further clarification is not forthcoming.

Jihoon joins him on the bed, crossing one leg under him, “You, me, that news report, the hunter on my tail. I was thinking about it all and I just—I don’t know why I bother anymore.” He says, quiet but desperate.

“What do you mean?”

Jihoon looks at him, and it's not a hard look. Just tired, and completely immovable.

“My parents died when I was a baby,” Jihoon says, turning his eyes away briefly. There's this painful quirk to his mouth that Seungcheol can’t properly identify. It's not sadness, exactly, but something harder, something worse.

“I was raised by my grandparents in Busan till I was eight, when social services decided they were too old to take care of me properly and rehoused me with my Aunt. She was a total bitch, and I hated living with her. I was picked on at school because of my height, pushed around at home because I wasn’t her kid. Coming to Seoul was my big chance to do something different, to break the cycle of awfulness my life was stuck in. I think I made it one month before I was bitten.” Jihoon murmurs, darting his eyes away again, like he is ashamed to admit this.

And for all Seungcheol is terrible at this sort of thing, he picks Jihoon’s hands up, runs his thumbs across the palms. “ _Jesus_ Jihoon. Are you trying to break my fucking heart?”

Jihoon laughs, something short and broken. “No. I’m just pointing out that my bad luck isn’t something new. It’s been following me my whole goddamn life.” He sighs, staring at his hands “I must be cursed or something. That hunter was just doing me a favour by trying to kill me—an act of kindness really.”

Seungcheol sees red for a moment at the casual carelessness of the words.

“Don’t _ever_ say that again.” He growls, feeling Jihoon tense under his hands, but he doesn’t pull away. “I’m sorry your life hasn’t been so peachy Jihoon—mine wasn’t exactly a walk in the park either but you don’t see me getting super emo about it. Awful shit happens, and you just have to salvage something out of all that crap and keep going because it’s all that awful stuff that’s going to make you the toughest son of a bitch on the planet. This is new to you—I know that. I know you’re scared as much as you like to pretend you aren’t, but I’m going to keep you safe. Nobody is going to hurt you as long as I’m around.”

Seungcheol has to stop to take a breath, and he realises that was the cheesiest stream of cheesiness to ever come out of his mouth. But it seems to have gotten through to Jihoon, who is staring at him with an expression that is so open and pained and _grateful_ that Seungcheol wants, needs to hold him.

“How do you _know_ that?” Jihoon breathes. His voice is thin, careful, strained.

Seungcheol looks him straight in the eye. “I just know.” He rubs Jihoon's hand, slowly, offering what comfort he can. “You’re safe here Jihoon, trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“What about when you’re not around? I couldn’t even _feed_ without you.” Jihoon says at once, and he won't look at Seungcheol now, won't look at anything but the place where their hands are meeting, Seungcheol’s tanned skin warring with his milky tones.

Seungcheol leans forward before he can help himself, dips his head, meets Jihoon’s eyes from an awful, awkward angle.

“It won’t matter. You’ll be safe.” he replies, his voice gentle. “In time you’ll get used to everything you can do, you’ll become more experienced. And, we’re going to work together and I’m going to _train_ you, going to make you stronger and faster and smarter in every way possible, and when you see that hunter again— _he’ll_ be the one begging for his life.”

Jihoon nods and swallows, throat working with the movement, and Seungcheol's eyes are caught by the sight for a moment before he thinks to jerk his gaze up again. 

“Thank you. I’m sorry I woke you up, but I feel better now.” Jihoon says, which is a bloody stinking lie. Seungcheol can feel it in the slight tremor of Jihoon's hands, in the uneven rhythm of his breaths. Jihoon is only forcing down his anxiety, making it stay put.

"I’ll let you get back to sleep. Goodnight." Jihoon says quietly, letting go of Seungcheol’s hands. He stands from the bed and turns to leave.

“Do you want to sleep next to me tonight?” Seungcheol blurts out.

Jihoon stills, half in and half out of the room, back to Seungcheol; but Seungcheol already knows what expression Jihoon will be wearing.

A frisson of panic runs up his spine. The panic is useless; he banishes it and clears his throat. “Plenty of space, if you wanted to.”

Jihoon turns back to face him, but flicks his eyes away, looking not quite embarrassed. “No, I--” Then, “It’s okay. We don’t have to. I’m okay really.”

Seungcheol lifts the corner of the blanket. "Come here, will you?"

He doesn’t even get a chance to scoot over and let Jihoon climb in; Jihoon just insinuates himself under the covers and right into Seungcheol’s arms, sliding a leg between Seungcheol’s and snuggling closer, hands clenching in Seungcheol’s T-shirt.

The position he’s adopted is less next to Seungcheol—and more on top of.

Not that Seungcheol’s going to complain.

This is nice. More than nice. Nice enough that his eyes slide shut instantly, and he breathes out a content sigh. But if he’s being honest, this isn’t the usual position he adopts if he’s sleeping with someone.

Lycan’s usually like to sleep on top, their possessions tucked safely underneath them. It’s one of those instincts Seungcheol can’t unpack—or doesn’t _want_ to anyway.

So Seungcheol’s hand finds a nice warm resting place in the dip of Jihoon's spine right above his ass, the other curling around his waist as he instinctively rolls them over.

Jihoon makes a small puffing sound when Seungcheol’s weight pins his back to the mattress but doesn't resist otherwise. Maybe he doesn’t really consider this strange, or maybe all the emotional strain and the threat of a hunter on his tail has dissolved his personal boundaries.

Jihoon lets out a quiet laugh, warm breath against Seungcheol's cheek. "What are you _doing_ ," he says – it really isn't a question at all.

Seungcheol allows his eyes to slide shut again and says. “Sorry—instinct.”

“You’re cocooning me on instinct?” Jihoon says. His tone isn't discouraging in the least.

“Yes, in case somebody tries to steal you in the middle of the night.”

Jihoon’s laughter is a vibration Seungcheol feels against his ribs. “Who? Do you have much experience with people trying to steal things from you when you sleep?”

“Shhh now. Time to sleep Hoonie.” He slurs, too content to try for coherency right now. His Lycan side is purring its ass off.

Thankfully, Jihoon relaxes into it, winding his arms around Seungcheol, laughing a little as Seungcheol drapes himself over him a little more, making sure Jihoon’s limbs are safely tucked underneath.

Distantly, he remembers this is going to be awkward as fuck when they wake up. Possibly with Seungcheol all wolfed out and sporting a boner.

Seungcheol rolls the repercussions of this around in his head for a few minutes, and decides to…..

…..do absolutely nothing about it, because Jihoon's already conked out, softly snoring in Seungcheol’s arms and staying up to fret is singularly losing its appeal.


	7. Hunter's Moon

In the morning, Jihoon is still alive and well.

Actually—not so much alive because of the whole dead vampire thing—but he’s in one piece and snoring softly when Seungcheol wakes up draped over him.

Recently, Seungcheol's life has been a continuous stream of new experiences, which should be frightening and confusing. But waking up to his baby vampire tucked under him—not so much.

Jihoon has an arm thrown over Seungcheol's waist, and their legs are tangled together, and he makes a low, grumbling noise, when Seungcheol moves, like he knows Seungcheol is awake and doesn't want him to be.

Seungcheol’s sure he could slip out of bed and get ready for work without disturbing him, but that assessment proves to be _wrong_ when Jihoon curls his fingers into his T-shirt, tugging Seungcheol down when he levers himself up on his elbows.

Seungcheol tries to gently uncurl the sleeping vampire's fist from his shirt, but Jihoon won’t budge.

“I got to go to work Hoonie." Seungcheol whispers.

“ _No_.” Jihoon mews sleepily.

Seungcheol huffs out a breath of laughter and considers his choices.

Trying to slip out of his T-shirt while a baby vampire is clutching it in a death grip is no easy feat, but he manages it with a little shuffling, some grunting and thankfully no dislocation of his shoulders. The second he’s free of the material, a sleepy Jihoon clutches it against his chest and rolls onto his side. He snuffles and rubs his face into Seungcheol’s T-shirt like it’s some kind of _security blanket._ And, _Jesus_ —maybe it is?

After Seungcheol’s finished dressing, a quick glance at the clock on his bedside table reveals he doesn’t have enough time to grab breakfast before he leaves. He does, however, have enough time to nuzzle the sleeping vampire curled up on his bed.

Jihoon has an arm thrown over his eyes, chest rising and falling in a way that's hypnotic. The sheets have slipped down just far enough to meet the elastic of Jihoon's underwear, and there’s a long line of bare skin showing on his stomach where his shirt has ridden up. Seungcheol unconsciously slides his tongue across his lips at the sight and is suddenly faced with the reality of wanting to do _a lot_ more than just nuzzle.

But he’s got to be at work in less than an hour, so nuzzling sleepy Jihoon is all he has time for.

The mattress doesn't make a noise when he kneels over the be, the springs quiet for a change, and Seungcheol doesn't quite know whether to feel guilty about that or not.

It's not particularly easy to surreptitiously nuzzle someone, but Jihoon is clearly a heavy sleeper and doesn’t protest when Seungcheol rubs the tip of his nose against his cheek lightly. 

That’s all Seungcheol intends to do; skin touching skin for a fraction of a second. But then he just _had_ to go ahead and _inhale_. And then inhale again.

With each sniff the smells of everyday life fall away, leaving that unique background that is Jihoon, a collection of basic scents that wind together like DNA. It's a smell Seungcheol would know without looking. Jihoon's skin holds his scent like his own holds warmth, and it's stronger against the curve of his neck, where the skin is fine and close. Seungcheol knows it would be stronger still behind the curve of Jihoon's ear, in the darker edges of his hair, and he can't resist stretching just a bit further and pressing his face there.

There's something familiar in that, the urge to press your nose against something new and interesting and delicious and inhale. Just because you could, and that isn't strange at all. He's seen people doing that in the supermarket all the fucking time— _okay_.

“Cheol.” Jihoon murmurs in his sleep and _that's_ when it occurs to Seungcheol that he's far too close, that's he's far too close and one stray thought away from doing something ridiculously inappropriate.

When Seungcheol pulls back—he’s stopped short by a surprisingly strong grip. Glancing down, heart thumping crazily in his ribcage, he realises sleepy Jihoon has now curled his fist around this shirt too.

“Aw—crap.” Seungcheol murmurs, as he starts to unbutton his shirt.

He leaves for work five minutes late because he has to fish out another shirt, while Jihoon snoozes peacefully with _two_ security blankets.

* * *

Seungcheol ends up sleeping in the next morning because he's genuinely tired after working two shifts back to back.

They’re seriously understaffed but aren’t allowed to hire any new shift workers till the new financial year, so as shift manager—he’s first in line to fill unwanted overtime.

He drifts off for no more than ten minutes. But when he wakes up there are fingers in his hair, pushing up through the back of it in a way that's hypnotic and more than a little arousing. He opens his mouth to speak to Jihoon—and then _stops_.

He can feel himself frowning.

Something's off, something's wrong, and it takes him a moment to put his finger on what it is: whoever this is—it doesn’t _smell_ like Jihoon.

There's a strange, dizzy and very worrying moment where he has absolutely no idea who he's in bed with. And the slow drift of long, clever fingers isn't helping at all. He's either going to have to wait until they speak, or he's going to have to turn around and look, to find out exactly who thinks they are allowed to pet him when he’s sleeping.

He gives it another few minutes, and when no greeting seems to be forthcoming, he turns his head and comes face to face with a grinning, mischievous looking _Soonyoung_!

“Huh?” Seungcheol manages a breathless noise of stunned confusion. Which he thinks conveys the very basics of what he's feeling. Anything more complicated is...beyond him.

“Good morning handsome.” Soonyoung says, voice rough and far too low to be decent. And if that’s not disturbing enough, there's a hand sliding low on his waist and…

_Oh—hell no._

“Get the fuck out.” Seungcheol growls, eyeballing Soonyoung—but annoyingly, Soonyoung seems to be _immune_.

“I am out, _come join me.”_ Soonyoung purrs, cupping Seungcheol’s cheek, thumb curving round his jaw slow and impossibly intimate in a way it has no business being.

Seungcheol tries to roll away – but Soonyoung's arm slithers round his waist and he hooks a leg over Seungcheol’s hip and holds him exactly where he is.

“Get the fuck off of me or I swear to god Soonyoung—I _will_ eat you.” Seungcheol says slowly, trying not to sound like he might start screaming hysterically at any moment.

But Soonyoung just squeezes him tighter.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep Cheol.” He purrs against the back of Seungcheol’s neck.

Seungcheol thinks this is probably one of those important life moments when someone comes to the realisation that their life is spiralling out of control—where they convince themselves they have to stop. Or to accept things being weird.

Instead Seungcheol feels a hysterical laugh building up somewhere in his chest.

“What the hell is your problem? I’m a big, bad wolf. I’m _dangerous_.” Seungcheol tries again, breathless, like this is some ludicrous parallel universe where Soonyoung hasn't noticed.

There's a huff of air against the back of Seungcheol's neck which is impossible to discern a meaning from. “ _Hmm_. Maybe once upon a time you were. But now you’re just a big—soft—cuddly puppy that wants his belly rubbed.”

The last part is said with such _certainty_ Seungcheol's not sure if he should be insulted, embarrassed or terrified.

He settles for all three.

“Soonyoung, I’m—” Seungcheol trails off, because Soonyoung’s hands have strayed down, finding the dips and shallows of his hipbones before sliding over his stomach— _petting_

“Hey!” Seungcheol twists his head, pinches his fingers together until there's only a sliver of light between them, “I’m this close to wolfing out and tearing your face off.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Soonyoung titters. As if Seungcheol’s the one who's suddenly being unreasonable. “If I don’t have a face, how will I ever blow a raspberry on your belly like this.”

“DON’T YOU DARE!” Seungcheol yells, but Soonyoung is already all movement and purpose, tugging the hem of his T-shirt up, and leaning down to plant his mouth on Seungcheol’s tummy.

Seungcheol ends up laughing even though he doesn’t mean to, all messy noises under every push of Soonyoung's mouth on his skin.

This is humiliating.

This is the most demeaning thing anyone has ever done to him.

He should put a stop to this, and with incredible levels of violence.

“Jihoon—help!” Seungcheol calls out helplessly.

“No—shh.” Soonyoung panics, clamping a hand around his mouth, like _Jihoon’s_ the one he should be afraid of here.

“Soonyoung?” Jihoon’s voice comes from the doorway.

Soonyoung immediately removes his hand, and Seungcheol shifts his head on the pillow until he can look up.

Jihoon is leaning lazily against the frame of his bedroom door, looking stern and dishevelled and still wearing his pyjamas. His eyes manage to slide over and take in absolutely everything without any visible reaction. “What are you doing to my Cheollie?”

Soonyoung tries to stand up so fast Seungcheol suspects he nearly teleports to the side of the bed.

“ _Nothin,”_ He says with a nervous laugh _,_ “Just came in to wake him up.”

“No, he wasn’t! He was being weird again, Jihoon—he was petting me in my sleep and blowing raspberries on my stomach.” Seungcheol points accusingly. “He wasn’t even petting me right!” That's really not a helpful addition to the conversation but it's all he has at the moment.

Soonyoung doesn't even have the good grace to look sheepish. “I’m sorry,” he shrugs, not sounding sorry at all. “But I couldn’t resist when I saw him all sleepy and snuggled up in bed. He looked so cute and cuddly.”

Jihoon takes two steps forward, one eyebrow arched curiously, “Did you even tell him _why_ you’re here?”

Soonyoung winces. “Oh, uh—no. I was going to do that next. _After_ the belly rub.”

Jihoon crosses his arms and makes an irritated noise. “Soonyoung, this is _important.”_

“Why? What’s going on?” Seungcheol asks, looking between them.

Soonyoung tips his head down, expression strangely and suddenly focused. “I came over to warn you guys, some man came to the supermarket yesterday, asking about a stray baby vampire in the area and if we’ve seen one. He was passing around this card for us to report anything suspicious.” Soonyoung says, fishing in his pocket for a card and passing it over. “I think he was a hunter.”

Seungcheol examines the card, considering the implications. There are no identifying details on it, just a number printed on the back with the government stamp.

“And what did you _tell_ him?” He asks.

“Uh— _nothing_ , of course.” Soonyoung’s voice is stunned honesty.

Seungcheol squints at him, but he seems to be telling the truth.

“I may be a little new to the vampire game, but I’m not an idiot.” Soonyoung huffs. Something in his demeanour grows serious and grave. “I knew something was off about him when he started checking ID’s and asking questions. I didn’t realise _what_ till I saw the gun he was carrying. I think he flashed it deliberately, to get a reaction. I wanted to tell you guys straight away, but I didn’t think I should leave work right after he left, in case he was still watching the place and followed me. So I waited for a day—and here I am.”

Seungcheol nods approvingly. “That was smart. Good thinking.”

Soonyoung’s eyes are suddenly bright, smile widening at what he clearly decides is the best compliment of all time. “ _Thanks Daddy_.” He drops his voice suggestively, giving Seungcheol a look through his lashes.

Seungcheol shudders and shoots him an unimpressed look. “Don’t—don’t ever call me that again.”

“Cheol—what does it mean?” Jihoon asks, shuffling closer.

“It _means_ —I need to fast-track your ID.” Seungcheol says, rolling out of bed. He opens a drawer and starts rooting through it for a change of clothes as he talks, “I’m going to pay a visit to an old contact of mine, see what he can do. I was supposed to meet with him next week, but hopefully he can fit us in earlier.”

He’s about to start getting changed—then stops short at the lecherous look Soonyoung levels at him. Throwing the change of clothes over his arm, he heads into the bathroom to change instead.

Thankfully, no baby vampires attempt to follow him, but Jihoon’s eyes are on him when he exits, piercing and curious.

Seungcheol has to smile at him, at the small concerned frown he’s wearing. Any other facial expression will cause Jihoon to fret. And Jihoon can fret like no one else on the planet.

“Hey—don’t worry Jihoonie, it’s going to be okay. I'm going to take care of it.” Seungcheol assures. He smooths a thumb over Jihoon's lovely bottom lip, follows it up with a kiss to the baby vampire’s forehead.

Jihoon inhales, it's quick and rough, like he hadn't expected that. A sliver of perfect human reaction. Which is a heady sort of rush, enough that Seungcheol presses down harder just fractionally.

When Seungcheol pulls back, Jihoon smiles at him and despite the dark circles under his eye and the fatigue in his face, he looks momentarily placated.

“Thanks _daddy_.” Jihoon says carefully, like he thinks he might get told off for it.

“I—uhm.” Seungcheol stammers as Jihoon’s grin sharpens, flashing Seungcheol a hint of fangs. He’s pretty sure his face is some shade of red as yet undiscovered by science. “Yeah, okay, I guess you can call me that.”

“Hey, no fair!” Soonyoung scoffs from the corner of the room. "How come he gets to call you that and I don't?"

"Because he doesn't pet me while I'm sleeping."

Seungcheol ignores the pout Soonyoung throws at him in favour of grabbing his jacket from behind the door.

He toes on his boots, collects his keys and wallet, and trudges out into the midday sun.

He has an old friend to meet.

* * *

The last known address Seungcheol has for Kim Namjoon takes him half-way across town to a little pastel yellow street corner bakery, lined with an array of flower arrangements and sprawling ivy, and practically dripping with _quaintness_. The air just outside the door smells like cinnamon and apple pie, and for one serious minute, Seungcheol thinks that he's taken a wrong turn, until he glances up at the shop awning and spots the sign hanging underneath: _Joon’s Bakery._

It should throw him more than it does, this bright slice of hectic colour and gaudy shine, nestled between a bookmakers and an ammunition store, but Seungcheol suspects the Bakery’s just a carefully maintained front for Namjoon’s blossoming criminal empire.

Namjoon's an old friend of Seungcheol’s, from the days when they both lived the more traditional sort of Woodland life. Except Namjoon still dabbles in less than legal activities, and has found an outlet for his destructive tendencies in the form of a little information retrieval and document forgery.

The second Seungcheol steps through the door of the bakery, the overhead bell rings and he’s greeted with a chorus of: _‘If it isn’t the big bad wolf’_ and _‘Please Mr Wolf—don’t blow my house down!’_ and _‘What time is it Mr Wolf?’_.

“Is he here? Or should I go get lunch and come back?” Seungcheol growls over the sound of Jimin and Taehyung and Hoseok cackling.

Seriously. These jokes are getting old.

He contemplates shutting them up by wolfing out and devouring the traybakes displayed on the counter, but he knows better than most the bakery is just a poor front for Namjoon’s other business ventures and those traybakes probably have some dubious ingredients in them. Raisins or something. _Eugh_.

He’s saved from doing anything unsightly when the back-door swings open and Namjoon steps out to see what all the ruckus is about. 

He looks surprised to see Seungcheol, then his eyes spark up with interest. 

They haven't spoken in over two years and—why should they? Seungcheol has been trying to reinvent himself and Namjoon had his comfortable life of intrigue and debauchery, and there’s just some people you don’t meet up with for a friendly drink.

“Okay,” Namjoon cuts in, gently and with the slightest tinge of humour. “Enough jokes. Get back to work.”

He deliberately catches Seungcheol’s eye and jerks his chin towards the door, twice, signalling for him to come on through. Namjoon still walks like a predator, still smells like one too. But he’s paler than he used to be, a bit leaner about the jaw and cheekbones—and he’s wearing an apron and there’s even a smudge of flour on his cheek. A watertight disguise.

Seungcheol follows him out the back, down a narrow set of steps into a basement where Namjoon clearly conducts business of the ‘not baked’ variety.

The window’s slightly ajar, even with tools and documents and expensive cutting-edge tech covering most of the available surfaces, which tells him Namjoon has developed some rather lax habits in his civilian life—like he no longer expects ambushes and raiding parties and pissed off villagers who try to shoot his kneecaps off.

Seungcheol might have to retrain him with stealth attacks. For his own good, of course

Seungcheol looks around with idle interest while Namjoon shoos the cat sitting on his desk away, doubtlessly for Seungcheol's benefit, and sprawls in a black leather overstuffed chair, puffing on a cigar he conjures out of nowhere.

"Business still booming?" Seungcheol asks, running the backs of his fingers along the edge of a table.

"People always looking for a new life." Namjoon says, nodding towards the empty armchair in front of his desk. “Now stop getting your fingerprints all over my office and sit your ass down.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow but does as told, taking the indicated seat. Because despite rumours to the contrary, he is clever enough to be charming to people who have the resources to make sure he wakes up in a cockfighting ring, wearing a thong, unsure of how and why he got there.

“So, you need something I take it.” Namjoon says, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. “Cause I’m guessing you’re not here to sample my madeleines?”

"If I came to eat, I certainly wouldn’t buy your shit Joon," Seungcheol says dryly, and Namjoon laughs. It makes him look ridiculously young, even with the lines set around his eyes.

"I missed you, you bastard," he says. “Where’ve you been?”

Seungcheol smiles at him.

Pining over baby vampires and building a vampire football team, for the most part, but Namjoon hardly needs to know that. "This and that," Seungcheol says, dismissively. "Keeping busy."

Namjoon smiles, the twist of mouth that Seungcheol remembers so well. "I know you have.”

Reaching for a folded-up newspaper on a cabinet behind him, he unfolds it and tosses it on the desk, where Seungcheol can read the headline: _LOCAL MAN SHREDDED TO DEATH._

When Seungcheol looks up, Namjoon’s stippling his fingers on the desk, eyes narrowed in concentration. Giving Seungcheol just enough rope to hang himself, if Seungcheol knows him at all.

“This supposed to _mean_ something?” Seungcheol huffs, tossing the newspaper back across the desk at him.

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Don’t try that with me Cheollie.” His voice is calm and solid, cutting through Seungcheol’s bullshit. “I saw the news segment on the TV last week. Then I had the pleasure of _hearing_ about it in more detail when a _hunter_ came snooping around the shop.

“A hunter? _Is that so._ ” Seungcheol says, aiming for disinterested and coming across defensive instead.

He has no reason to think Namjoon would lie to him, but then again, it's been a long time since they've moved in the same circles. He doesn't honestly know what goes on in Namjoon's head these days; he's not sure he ever did.

“Yeah—just two days ago actually. Came strutting in, throwing his weight around, flashing a badge and a few grizzly pictures, asking me to help identify what or _whom_ could have done that.” Namjoon's smile turns wider, his eyes narrowing in appreciation. “I took one look at those pictures and thought— _Choi Seungcheol.”_

They stare each other down across the desk for a long minute. Seungcheol's the first to lean forward.

“Well, I hope you weren’t thinking it out _loud_.” He counters, sounding decidedly strained.

“Relax, I didn’t tell him anything. I have no reason to help hunters, and you should know by now I would never turn you in,” Namjoon says sincerely.

Seungcheol slouches back, relaxes; he knows that much is true.

If Namjoon _was_ ever going to report his presence in the city, he would have done it years ago when Seungcheol’s unsavoury proclivities were still a hot topic. Back then, someone could slip over a fucking banana peel and Seungcheol would be the prime suspect. But instead, he’s managed to live a relatively peaceful life for the last decade, and he knows he has Namjoon to thank for that. 

Except he never _actually_ got around to thanking him. Which is…yeah, okay, it’s pretty ungrateful.

“I realise I never thanked you for helping me out back then, or got a chance to explain what happened…” Seungcheol trails off, frowning when he realises he sounds less plaintive and more irritated than he’d intended.

“You don’t have to.” Namjoon holds up a hand, shaking his head as he does so. He takes a long, deliberate drag of his cigar before adding, “I always figured you had good reasons to do what you did. Otherwise I wouldn’t have helped you that day.”

“I _did_. I had very good reasons, but you still didn’t have to help me out. Not a lot of people would have. So, yeah— _thanks_. I appreciate it.” Seungcheol offers in conciliation, smiling sheepishly.

Namjoon manages a small smile back, looking about as awkward as Seungcheol feels right now, before waving his cigar impatiently. "Okay, enough mutual masturbation. What do you need?”

Seungcheol couldn’t be more relieved to get back to talking business.

“Identity papers. The whole lot. Birth certificate, tax number, vaccination records, a solid background and—”

Namjoon interrupts him with a startled cough, and quickly he puts his cigar to rest in an ashtray, “You skipping town again? What happened?”

Seungcheol raises a hand, asking for patience. “No, it’s not that. It’s not for me.”

“Oh?”

Seungcheol looks aside, sheepish, “I’m going to need a conversion certificate too.”

The space between Namjoon's eyes slowly disappears in a bewildered furrow. “Why don’t you just submit a conversion certificate at city hall? You don’t need me to—"

“It’s not _for_ a Lycan.” Seungcheol interrupts. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. This is going to come out sounding bad whether he likes it or not. “It’s for a Vampire actually.”

Namjoon mouths _Vampire?_ at him, eyebrows quirked with amusement. “You convert vampires now? Pretty sure that’s not possible with your DNA.”

“I’d really rather not answer a bunch of questions right now.” Seungcheol says, quiet and tight. "It’s kind of a time sensitive situation, so I need to know if you can do this—and if it’s going to pass inspection.”

Namjoon looks at him for a second, a mixture of _‘confused but willing to negotiate’_ and _‘what the hell are you up to, Seungcheol’_ and…something else...on his face.

“All my work is flawless Seungcheol. Nobody will be able to tell the difference. I have a guy that gets me the exact same paper they use at City hall and I invest in the best printing equipment. Even the microchips I use in the passports are from the same wholesaler officials use.” Namjoon offers proudly. He’s all about the details. It's one of the reasons Seungcheol came to him first.

“Great. So—you’ll _do_ it?” Seungcheol wants it to be a question, but there's a thin note of pleading.

To his credit, Namjoon just nods; he’s used to making deals with dangerous, desperate men. “Of course. But it’s not gonna be cheap.”

“I know.” Seungcheol nods, one sharp head movement. “How much?”

“I’ve got a few clients that need a few ‘things’ taken care of. Let’s say—three hits? Should be a stroll in the park for you—quite possible literally.” Namjoon says, with some evident satisfaction.

“No. I don’t do that anymore.” Seungcheol cuts him off with an abrupt shake of his head.

"The dead librarian’s corpse littered all over the city disagrees." Namjoon says, eyebrow rising sharp. He jerks his head pointedly at the newspaper still spread open between them. 

Seungcheol pinches his brow, frustrated. The thing is, Namjoon and him go way back. He was one of the few _Grizzlies_ Seungcheol trusted in his neck of the woods, and practically the only person who didn’t turn their back on him after he slaughtered….

The point is, if Seungcheol makes it clear he's uninterested in that line of work, Namjoon will be gracious enough to back off. But he'll want to know _why_ , and Seungcheol can't help but feel he owes him some form of explanation. It's hardly fair, changing the rules on him like that after so many years.

“That was retaliation, okay. They made the first move—they forced my hand.”

Namjoon looks sympathetic, which is a relief. But he follows that up with, " Alright then—$4000 dollars. That’s my price," which is..... _less so._

“$4000 dollars for papers?!” Seungcheol gasps, spreading his arms dramatically. “What the fuck? I don’t remember mine costing as much.”

Namjoon frowns back at him, looking a bit offended. “That’s _with_ a discount for friendlies Cheol. Technology is always improving to detect forgeries, so forgery techniques need to improve too. It’s not a cheap process, and you at least _had_ some paperwork to work off. If you’re asking for everything from scratch, naturally it’s _going_ to cost more.”

“Alright, _fine_.” Seungcheol grunts. “I got some money saved up, but I’ll have to withdraw it in instalments. Don’t want my banking activity to look suspicious.”

“I’ll take a third upfront as a deposit, and the rest after I finish the papers.” Namjoon claps his hands together, happy to have business concluded. “Oh, and I’ll need a picture. _Whoever_ it is, bring them in for a photograph.”

“No need. I already got some taken.” Seungcheol says, pulling the small photograph envelope out of his jacket pocket and sliding it across the table.

Namjoon eyes the envelope curiously. His fingers twitch uncertainly in the middle of the table. "Not going to _introduce_ me to your friend? I’m vampire friendly you know—don't you trust me?"

The offense is put on, a game, and Seungcheol shrugs it off affably. “Like I said, it’s a time sensitive situation, not a question of trust. And do you really want me to escort a wanted fugitive in here and ruin your carefully cultivated image?”

Namjoon sighs, tipping his head in reluctant agreement and finally picks up the envelope. Unsealing it carefully, he tips out a few passport sized photographs onto his palm and then pinches one by the edges, holding it up to examine it in the dim light. He stares at it unblinkingly for an age before his lips twitch at the corners. “ _Aww_.”

Seungcheol can't help the flash of a smile that creeps onto his face. “I know.”

“He’s adorable. And holy shit, look at those _fangs_. They’re so tiny, you can hardly see them.” Namjoon laughs, grinning stupidly at the photograph pinched between his fingers. “I can’t imagine someone that small would pose much of a danger. I mean—how does he even _feed_?”

Seungcheol presses his lips together, unable to fully suppress a chuckle. “He doesn’t—not without help anyway. In all honesty, he’s very harmless. From what I understand, he didn’t exactly sign up to become a vampire, so even if he was better equipped, I don’t think he’s interested in feeding on anyone.”

Namjoon stares at the photograph a moment longer, before something under his expression goes...cloudy.

“So you’re grooming a stray to get access to a coven.” He says with a quick smirk that fades into something pensive and faintly troubled. “Is that really necessary Cheol?”

Seungcheol can feel his eyebrows lifting in shock.

“Uh— _what_?” He stalls, thoughts racing and tumbling over themselves, “That’—that’s not what I’m doing.”

Namjoon narrows his eyes at him considering. The information he's fishing for is professionally relevant to him, as well as personally so. “So, what _is_ your plan then? Use him as bait? Eat him? Train him and build a little killing machine to do your bidding?”

Seungcheol shakes his head and tries to head him off; he can’t let Namjoon go on thinking along these lines.

“No! _No_! None of that is happening here.” His voice is a little sharp, because seriously, the thought makes irritation chase down his spine.

But Namjoon doesn’t flinch, just looks at him for a moment, head tilted slightly to the side, like a curious dog. Or Bear. Or whatever.

“Look,” Seungcheol says, despairing of the world. “It’s not for anything dodgy. He just needs the papers for a job. A job at petsmart.”

It's actually true, in part, which is the best part of making this believable. He's already thinking ahead, trying to come up with other plausible explanations for his sudden “tolerance”.

Namjoon stares at him, blinking slowly. “Let me get this straight—you’ve come out of retirement, mauled a man to death and forked out $4000 dollars of your own money, just so some baby vampire can work at petsmart?”

There's a long quiet pause, as if Namjoon is daring him to say any different. Seungcheol takes the dare.

“Yeah. So? Petsmart is a fun place to work. He likes animals and wants to contribute to society in a positive way and there’s nothing wrong with that.” He cuts himself off. A flush is rising in his cheeks, and he has the bad, humiliating sense that he's exposed something he should have kept covered.

He averts his gaze, but not before he sees Namjoon's expression loosen, his eyes soften.

There is a pointed silence. Then Namjoon laughs, a little nervously, and says " _Jesus_ , Cheol. Have you— _imprinted_ on a vampire?"

"Something like.” Seungcheol tilts his head in reluctant agreement. “I've just recently started collecting them."

* * *

Seungcheol drags himself through the front door after another grueling double shift at the store. He peels his leather jacket off, kicking his shoes against the baseboard, and slumps his way into the kitchen.

He’d left money for Jihoon to order take out, so there ought to be something left over, he reasons, and he can just eat it cold. He glances at the clock on the oven and groans: two in the morning. As soon as he flips on the light, he sees Jihoon curled up in the corner of the couch, clutching a Chinese take away menu in one hand and a phone in the other.

“Oh, good. I was hoping I timed it right. I just ordered.” He says cheerfully.

Seungcheol blinks at him. “You—you waited?” There's something that feels strangely important about that, that he’s afraid of unravelling.

Jihoon blushes, sits up and stretches out his back, “I wasn’t hungry earlier and well, we always eat together. I like to keep it that way.” He shrugs.

“Uh, okay, awesome,” Seungcheol grins. “I’m starving. I’ll grab a quick shower then.”

* * *

When Seungcheol steps out of the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed, Jihoon’s sprawled on the couch in front of the television, eating noodles from a carton.

He passes Seungcheol his own carton as he settles on the far end of the couch.

“Thanks,” Seungcheol says, squinting at the television as he reaches for a set of chop-sticks. “Keeping an eye on current affairs?”

Jihoon shrugs without looking away from the television. He’s watching the News. _Again_.

“There wasn’t anything else on.” Jihoon digs a piece of Chicken from his carton and nips it neatly in half. “And while I’m incommunicado, It’s like a window to the outside world for me. I hate not knowing what’s going on out there.”

“It won’t be forever, Jihoonie.” Seungcheol says, prying his chopsticks apart, “My contact will have your papers ready soon, and then it’ll be safer for you to go out again.”

Jihoon looks at him, chewing. Then he goes back to the television. “What if I come across the same hunter that shot me? What if he recognizes me? He already _knows_ I’m a stray—so won’t he know the papers are fake?”

Seungcheol looks down at the carton in his hand, frowning, “Yeah—there is that.” He purses his lips, thinking about fake passports and forged I.Ds.

He trusts Namjoon’s work, but there's always the possibility that even Namjoon's genius might not stand up to legal investigation. The Korean government is very, very interested in non-humans right now.

“Look—try not to worry too much about it. If I know anything about Hunter’s, it’s that they’re not very good at sharing. They’re competitive and secretive and never pass along leads to each other; the one on your tail, probably hasn’t told anyone else about you. He’s maybe hoping to catch you all on his own, and that works in our favour cause you only have to avoid one guy. Do you remember anything about him? Any identifying details?”

“No. It all happened so fast. Sorry.” Jihoon sighs, picking at his food.

Seungcheol reaches out to him, stroking a hand through his hair. “No—don’t be. There’s a lot of hunters in Seoul anyway, almost no hope in narrowing it down. But if I knew who it was, I could—” Seungcheol catches his words and slips them back into his mouth. 

“Could what?” Jihoon prompts when Seungcheol hesitates.

“I, uhh—I could write them a strongly worded _letter_.” Seungcheol deflects, and there's a snort of laughter from Jihoon, which doesn't sound impressed at all.

Seungcheol opens his carton and they eat in silence for a few minutes. The food is good, spicy and sour. He’s hungrier than he realized and is only half concentrating on the TV.

This close to the full moon his attention is falling from one distraction to another, tiny sounds, smells, the way his sleeves irritate his wrists. But he's watching the television anyway, because watching the television is what you're supposed to do, it's normal, and he can do that. Even if his skin and his nose and his ears are determined to drive him mad by pointing out every little thing...and there are a lot of little things.

Like Jihoon—smelling _amazing_ a few feet away.

Seungcheol’s focusing so _intently_ on the TV he startles when Jihoon’s hand closes suddenly, affectionately on his knee.

“Did you really mean what you said the other night? About training me to whoop ass?” Jihoon asks, and his voice sounds just a tiny bit hopeful. The hand drops, but Seungcheol still feels the phantom touch on his knee.

Seungcheol peers into his carton, then plants the chopsticks and puts it down on the floor by his foot. “ _Yes_ , I plan on training you, but not to _whoop_ ass. To _protect_ yourself.” He corrects sternly.

Jihoon laughs then, low and sleek, and says, “That’s not what you said though. I believe your exact words were: _The next time you meet the hunter—he’ll be the one begging for mercy_. _”_ he says, in a hideous imitation of Seungcheol’s own accent.

Seungcheol makes a face at him, “Hey, I don’t sound like that. And I know what I said, but I don’t want you using your skills to hurt people. Only to defend yourself. Anything else—it’s a slippery slope Jihoon. Harder to step back from that kind of life than you think.”

The gratitude and affection is obvious in Jihoon’s expression for a few moments, before it settles on exasperated. “You say that like you _have_ first-hand experience. Like you’ve _lived_ a whole other life I don’t know about or something. Have you?”

Seungcheol picks up his carton again, then clears his throat. “Everyone’s got skeletons in their closet Jihoon.” He says, squeezing his way around the truth.

As he chews, Seungcheol is aware that he's been doing a lot of squeezing the last few days, which explains the look he's getting from Jihoon now; young and frustrated and curious.

They finish eating in the silence that hangs after that, until Seungcheol wipes his lips with a napkin and puts the carton back in its bag.

The news segment has switched focus to the weather, presented by a ghostly pale female vampire with bright green eyes.

“I never realised how many vampires there were in the population,” Jihoon says, dropping his own empty carton onto the table. He leans back into the couch, then tilts sideways into Seungcheol. “I knew they were around, and that we had to avoid certain areas of the city at night, but I hardly ever noticed them until now.”

Seungcheol tilts his head in acknowledgement. “Things have changed. Vampires used to stick out like a sore thumb, but they blend in so well now. Sometimes even _I_ struggle to tell the difference unless I smell them.” He says, entirely too honestly, his post-prandial lassitude making him careless.

He winces and looks over at Jihoon—who's watching him sideways, expression unreadable.

“You can _smell_ me?” Jihoon asks, obviously confused and trying to sniff himself surreptitiously. “How? Do vampires have a unique smell?”

Seungcheol works his jaw until he can get words out. “It’s not immediately obvious, unless you know what to look for. And it’s not a bad smell—it’s just _different_.”

Jihoon jerks his chin slightly. “Different in what way?”

“Soil, wind, blood—damp chalk.” Seungcheol says, rolling the words in his mouth like blood. “It’s an odd combination of scents, but recognizable.”

Jihoon wrinkles his nose adorably, “That’s doesn’t _sound_ like it smells very nice.”

Seungcheol chuckles and shakes his head. “Don’t worry, you’re not included. For some reason you don’t smell like other vampires do. Maybe it’s because you’re still a baby.”

“Really?” Jihoon blinks at him, “What do I smell like then?”

Seungcheol sighs. It isn't a question he has an easy answer for. 

Jihoon carries the everyday human being smells around him like a slowly disintegrating coat. But underneath the surface underneath the dust, peach shampoo, laundry detergent, soap, coffee and the stray drift of chocolate—he's smoother, sharper, far more interesting.

There's a flicker of cold metal and blood and a trail of something which is, without doubt, death but that's a part of Jihoon that Seungcheol has become familiar with. Then there's something else, something all the way underneath, something hot and familiar and very faint, something that whenever Seungcheol is close enough, whenever his nose is good enough he always finds himself leaning to catch, frustrated and hungry.

“It’s even harder to describe, but I like it. The closest thing to describe it as is a— _warm, freshly baked cupcake.”_

Jihoon narrows his eyes at him. “Like a sickly-sweet smell?”

“No dude, not like that. Not _sickly_. It’s a _delicious_ smell. A smell I want to roll around and rub my face in. A smell I want to eat.”

Seungcheol realises what he's said a second after he says it, and he can feel heat flood his face. When he looks over, Jihoon’s lips are parted in a silent ‘What the fuck’.

"I mean—I didn't mean to say that." Seungcheol bites the inside of his mouth to keep from talking for a second. Jihoon's still watching him, expression amused, and—not just amused, oh my God, kind of _intrigued_ as well.

“Can we pretend like I didn’t say that?” Seungcheol ducks his head sheepishly.

Jihoon very slowly reaches over for the remote, flicks the volume back up.

They're apparently going to pretend Seungcheol didn’t just say that. Jihoon is going to let him pretend that he didn’t just suggest he’s like to roll around with him and eat him. Jihoon is awesome.

Seungcheol breathes out and grabs the empty containers to dump in the trash. He downs a pint of water, thinking of how he’s kind of craving a cupcake now—but he’s sure there’s none in the house.

 _Dammit_.

When he pads back in, Jihoon’s yawning and stretching on the couch. There are goose bumps along his arms, Seungcheol notices, and as he watches, Jihoon pulls the blanket off the arm of the chair and wraps it around his shoulders, shivering a little.

“Are you cold?” Seungcheol asks, plopping back down on the couch without ceremony.

“Yeah, a little. I always feel a little cold after a big meal,” Jihoon seems to think it over for a second and then a slow, smug smirk curls across his face. “Why? You wanna _warm_ me up, Cheollie?” He asks. His tone is teasing, but his eyes are heavy. 

And there it is—one of Jihoon’s invitations.

“I could fetch you a bigger blanket.” Seungcheol murmurs, his eyes sliding down Jihoon’s body where the black shorts ride high on his milky things. He jerks them back up to Jihoon's face when he realizes what he’s doing and finds Jihoon smiling at him with a particular kind of focus. 

Jihoon nudges Seungcheol’s thigh with a foot, goading. “How sweet of you. You want to keep me warm—warm like a _freshly baked cupcake_?”

Despite his embarrassment, Seungcheol feels his cock shift in his pants. “Thought we agreed to forget I said that?”

“I agreed to no such thing.” Jihoon counters, eyes heavy lidded and trained on Seungcheol as he nudges him in the thigh again. “So, are you going to fetch me another blanket? Or were you planning on supplying me with _body heat?”_

His eyebrows suggest he wants something else entirely, like for Seungcheol to rip those tiny shorts off of him, flip him over and lick into him. Seungcheol swallows hard and gives himself a mental shake, a quick reminder that he’s the responsible one here. Or at least he’s _supposed_ to be.

“I don’t think,” He demurs slowly, “I would make a very good blanket.”

“I disagree.” Jihoon purrs, a sleepless husk in his voice that makes Seungcheol shiver. His foot is taunting where it drifts and presses against Seungcheol’s crotch, stealing all the air in his lungs, until Seungcheol grabs the offending appendage, fingers wrapping tightly just above Jihoon’s ankle.

Pushing up onto his elbows, Jihoon gives him an appraising look. A dark flush reddens his cheeks as he eyes the obvious bulge tenting Seungcheol’s pants, and his lips part, his breath coming fast and shallow. Temptation incarnate.

Seungcheol has the feeling they are on the edge of a precipice, and strangely enough, he isn't afraid of falling. For a guy who's always cautiously skirted the edges, it’s a huge shift in perspective. He knows the risks. But here, on familiar ground, on terms he set with all the advantages he could wish for, he can afford to take a few of those.

Coming to a decision, he tugs on Jihoon’s ankle, pulling Jihoon closer in one quick pull.

The vampire’s eyes go wide, and he yelps as he goes sprawling half over the couch and half over Seungcheol’s lap. 

“Seriously Cheol, how are you so strong?” he gasps, sliding a leg over Seungcheol’s to straddle his thighs.

Seungcheol shrugs, clenching his hands around Jihoon's hips tightly. It's all he can do to hold his ground, eager as he is to bite and kiss and to touch Jihoon in a hundred other ways. “Gym. Lots of protein—I also stack shelves for a living.”

Jihoon hums a disbelieving sound, tongue darting out to wet his lips, making them even more invitingly pink if that were possible.

“You’re weird Cheol,” He says, even as he shifts on Seungcheol's lap, movement deliberate and full of offered potential. He settles his hands on Seungcheol’s shoulders, leans closer to add, “But you’re nice and warm and make a very good blanket.”

Seungcheol pulls him closer until they’re chest to chest, holding him there with a hand flat against the small of his back, but he doesn’t even have the chance to get a word out before his nostrils flare and he stops moving.

Jihoon had smelled good before, tantalizing in his subtlety, but now he’s…

Aroused. Aroused and excited and Seungcheol sucks in a deep breath before he can stop himself.

It’s unmistakable, this close. Jihoon smells of musk and desire, intoxicating even without the added stimulation of the attraction being mutual. Seungcheol can’t believe how quickly the scent makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up, the way it edges red into his vision. Right then, every speck of adrenaline coursing through Seungcheol’s body easily turns into desire, his body lighting up with it, his heart almost shuddering in his chest.

He wants to bury his nose against Jihoon’s skin and lick his pulse point to feel it jump beneath his tongue.

Just as he’s leaning in to bite on the pale curve of a shoulder, Jihoon’s back goes ramrod straight.

He’s staring at Seungcheol now, a strange expression on his face.

“What?” Seungcheol frowns at him.

Jihoon looks dazed for a second longer, then snaps out of it quickly. “Your _eyes_ , they—they’ve _changed_.” He gasps, not sounding afraid in the slightest, only curious.

Seungcheol immediately averts his gaze, blinking at the far wall.

A Lycan’s eyes are strange and changeable, often very different from their tame form. Seungcheol’s never seen his change in a reflection, but he’s been told his eyes turn silver when he’s fighting to keep control, a bright hue completely divorced from his normal dark brown.

Jihoon must have seen the change, and not known what to make of it.

“Must be the angle of the light.” Seungcheol hedges.

He doesn’t know why he’s still lying to Jihoon—this would be the perfect entry to the conversation he’s been delaying for so long, but he’s terrified.

Jihoon must see the conflict on his face, because his hand cups his cheek for a moment, then tilts his head back to face his. For a good long while, Jihoon's quiet, studying his face. His eyes narrow very slightly, as though if he squints hard enough he'll see right through Seungcheol.

“What are you not _telling_ me?” he says at last. He looks like he's been thinking about asking the question for a while.

Seungcheol doesn't read judgment in his voice. He doesn't read much of anything at all. He stares at the wall for a beat—like it can give him a roadmap for navigating this conversation and laughs even though he’s pretty sure nothing will ever be funny again.

“Don’t—please don’t get scared.” he says, soft words spilling that he had no intention at all to let out. He really doesn't want to lie to Jihoon right now. For a very strange moment, he's not certain he even _could_ lie.

Possibly, that's the most terrifying part of it yet.

Jihoon goes quiet. Then he shuffles himself on Seungcheol’s lap, until he’s almost literally nose-to-nose with him.

“I’m not scared, Seungcheol. I could never be scared of you.” He says it baldly, like a dare.

Seungcheol doesn't know if he wants to curl away from Jihoon's implacable trust or give him a strong ding on the ear for being such an utter idiot.

The house phone starts ringing then, startling them for a second, but they both choose to ignore it.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you.” Seungcheol admits in a shamed whisper.

“Okay—but you’re _going_ to be. Right?” The careful interest in Jihoon’s tone burns like an accusation.

Seungcheol scrubs a hand over his face, certain that he’s already fucking up this conversation. He lets his eyes close, just for a moment. Lets himself hide. “I wanted to tell you before,” he says in his gentlest voice. “But I didn’t think it was the right time.”

The answer machine beeps with an incoming recorded message.

 _“Seungcheol—pick up. Pick up now—this is an emergency.”_ Namjoon’s unmistakable voice comes from the machine, anger and frustration come through, crisp and curt, across the line.

Seungcheol lifts Jihoon off his lap abruptly, pulling away from him over the roaring hunger of every instinct in his body. If _Namjoon_ is ringing him at half-past bastard, something is most definitely wrong.

“Hold up, I need to get that.” He tells Jihoon, angling towards the phone.

He reaches is just as the screen starts flashing again with another incoming call. 

“I don’t suppose you care what time it is,” he says by way of greeting, holding the phone loosely to his ear.

 _“Shut up and listen to me.”_ Namjoon says without preamble. He takes a deep breath and stresses his next words with audible caution, _“You need to take that vampire out of your house and leave now. There’s a hunter heading your way—he has your address.”_

Seungcheol draws in a slow breath as anger spikes through his system, throwing the world around him into hyper-focus. “What? _How_?”

Namjoon sighs, a deep, gusty lament that crackles through the speaker.

_“It wasn’t me. I didn’t tip him off. There was a break in at the bakery, but there was nothing missing. Nothing but the fucking papers for your vampire I was working on. The CCTV cameras had been tampered with, files deleted—but when Yoongi put them back together, I recognised him. The break in was last night. He’s probably on your fucking doorstep by now—you got to go.”_

“And go fucking where exactly? I don’t have a lot of options.” Seungcheol hisses through his teeth. Anger threatens to bubble up over the greater mass of nerves and desperate need churning in his belly.

He rakes a hand through his hair and sighs. “Do you think this guy’s likely to come here? Would he really be dumb enough to knock on my door and invade my territory?” Seungcheol says, his voice regaining a measure of patience.

Namjoon exhales with deliberation. When he continues, his voice is lower but no less intense.

_“He probably doesn’t know what you are Cheol. He just knows you have a stray, and that’s enough for him. That’s all he cares about.”_

Seungcheol hangs up, feeling helpless and hating it.

He prowls around the house in a manic fever born from too many emotions spiraling within him at once. And the one question that keeps spinning out to the forefront.

What the hell is he going to do?

“Cheol?” Jihoon asks quietly from the couch.

Seungcheol shakes himself out of it and meets Jihoon’s eyes, warm and concerned. 

“Just—give me a minute Jihoonie. I need to think.” He says, one hand coming up to rake furiously through his hair. Though he’s _already_ thinking, brain running on overtime, planning his next move.

A hunter knocking on his door is only fate jerking his chain, he knows it was bound to happen sometime. But this revelation brings desperation tempered by despondency because he’s going to have to hide Jihoon away. Away from _him_ , somewhere safe for God knows how long.

Part of him is tempted to leave now and start tracking this hunter down, one block after another, until he finds his man. The need to _protect_ is powerful, nearly drowning out the quiet voice urging caution.

But he can’t leave Jihoon here—and he can’t take him with him on his merry murder spree.

There is one, final recourse open to him. Something he’s hesitant… truthfully, frightened to try. Only the possibility of losing Jihoon frightens him more.

He grabs his cell phone off the coffee table and scrolls though his contacts, hitting dial when he finds the number he needs.

The call is answered on the first ring, before Seungcheol has actually worked out what he plans to say, leaving him to stammer through the greeting.

 _“Cheol? You know what time it is?”_ Mingyu grumbles over the line, yawning.

“Yeah, sorry Mingyu—but I really need a favour.”

 _“Anything boss.”_ The change is Mingyu’s voice is subtle. Careful. _“Are you okay? Did—did you lapse?”_

Seungcheol smiles a little, even though Mingyu’s not here to see it.

“No—but I feel like I’m about to.” He pauses to clear his throat. “I’ve gotten myself in a little predicament right now, and I need you to look after something for me. Well—not something, _someone_.”

* * *

“Go get dressed, grab some things.” Seungcheol tells Jihoon the second he hangs up, “You’re going to go stay with a friend of mine for a while.”

“What? No, Seungcheol,” Jihoon breaks off, sounding ragged. “I want to stay with you.”

“Do as you’re told Jihoon,” Seungcheol snaps, louder and sharper than he intended.

Jihoon blinks at him for a moment, obviously startled by the ferocity of the outburst. But he complies readily enough, padding into the room and into his den.

Seungcheol follows after him a moment later, grabbing him a spare duffel bag and helping him pack a few things. _Just_ a few things, because he’s going to sort this mess out and then he can have his baby vampire back at his side, where he belongs.

“Ready?” Seungcheol says, forcing a hoodie over Jihoon’s head because he may be a vampire, but dammit—it’s cold outside.

“No—” Jihoon huffs, poking his arms out of the too big sleeves. “I wish you would tell me what’s going on. I know it’s about me—I know it’s about the hunter.”

Seungcheol clears his throat, resettling the strap of Jihoon’s bag on his shoulder. The uncertainty in Jihoon’s voice needles at him.

“I will. I’ll explain everything. Just not now, okay. We need to move.”

There's hurt in Jihoon’s face, but also resignation. “Okay.”

Go-bag in hand, Seungcheol closes up the house and ushers Jihoon out and into the street.

* * *

It’s below zero outside.

The cold creeps under Seungcheol’s skin, making his Lycan body want to compensate with a shift into a _furrier_ state. He resists and tugs his collar up instead, slanting a glance over at Jihoon, who’s not said a word since they left the house.

Seungcheol embraces the lack of small talk as the calm before the storm. He does his best to ignore the thrumming tension between them and just enjoy being close to Jihoon as they walk hand in hand down the dark street.

He wants to soak in the moment, fix every sight, sound, and smell of Jihoon into his memory for the interminable future.

It’s a mistake, in hindsight, letting himself get distracted.

His concentration falters, so he doesn’t spot the man lurking in the alleyway until he steps out to greet them.

“Going somewhere?” The man says, stepping forward as he speaks

“Shit.” Seungcheol hisses under his breath, curling an arm round Jihoon's waist, pulling him back into the curve of his body, already focusing his sights on the man’s artillery. He’s got a crossbow in one hand, a gun in the other and a hunting knife on his hip.

Jihoon goes still at his side; Seungcheol can smell fear rippling off him in waves.

He’s going to take a wild guess that this is the Hunter.

They’re clearly smarter than he remembers because this one seems to be using some kind of _blocking_ spray to shield his scent.

The hunter’s eyes narrow as he considers them both.

“Not much of a talker eh? I was hoping you’d tell me why an average jo would go out of his way to protect a stray, but never mind.” He says as he circles them, giving them a wide birth.

He sounds amused, though there's a stiff edge to it, one that says his amusement doesn't always end well for other people.

“I do really appreciate you bringing him out into the open like this though. I don’t exactly have a warrant to kick your door down—not that I would have needed one. But this can get real messy indoors, and vampire blood can be a real bitch to clean up.”

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything in response, just pulls Jihoon behind him protectively.

The man's trying very hard not to react, but Seungcheol sees his mouth tighten briefly, sees those dark eyes cold and menacing, sizing him up.

“That’s sweet. And also unbelievably stupid. By law—I only need to warn you once, so _step aside.”_

Seungcheol’s hands clench. His skin feels too tight.

The frantic urge to _move_ and _bite_ and _kill_ prickles through his limbs, punctuated by the shortening of his breath and the sudden racing of his heart. The sensations run in such perfect parallel to his spiralling emotions that it takes Seungcheol several painful seconds to realize it’s not an impending panic attack he’s feeling. No, it’s an instinctive, visceral reaction to the man standing several meters away trying to aim a gun at his baby vampire.

“Cheol.” Jihoon whimpers from somewhere behind him. He tangles a hand in the back of his jacket, pulls hard enough to actually get Seungcheol swaying back a step.

Seungcheol huffs through his nose and shrugs his jacket off, letting it fall to the ground. The less he's wearing the better.

The hunter is smiling now, small and amused, and Seungcheol gets the feeling that he thinks he's always the smartest man in a room.

“Well—can't say I didn't warn you." He takes a step towards Seungcheol, cocks his gun. "Gonna have to shoot you now. But just a little, just enough so you can watch while I bleed your little friend dry.” The hunter laughs.

The anger that overtakes Seungcheol is fresh and clean and he swallows hard, fighting back the bile that rises in his throat. He’s pretty sure the disgust must show on his face, because the Hunter laughs, a croak that sounds demented and hoarse.

"Any last words?" The hunter drawls, raising his gun.

Seungcheol scoffs and shakes his head.

He wants to tell Jihoon to look away, not to watch what’s about to happen. But the elongation of his teeth are already stretching his jaw, and when he finally says, “Jihoonie, I'm sorry you had to find out this way,” it comes out in a wet, animalistic snarl.

"Cheol?" Jihoon's terror-stricken voice rings out as Seungcheol drops his humanity to the floor, shifts into his werewolf form and roars.

This isn't how it was supposed to play out, but hey—at least the Hunter's not smiling anymore.


	8. Temptation Waits

One shot—two.

Seungcheol feels the bullets punch through his skin, but he’s already shifted and the sensation is muted—like tiny staples pinching the flesh.

The hunter doesn’t attempt to shoot again. Knowing full well there’s nothing in his sorry excuse of an arsenal that will take down a motherfucking _Lycan_. The hunter goes pale instead, then red, breathing hard. “Oh—fuck.”

 _Indeed_.

Seungcheol wants to _destroy him,_ to _flagellate_ and _eviscerate_ and _murder_ and _rip_ and _shred._

 _‘How dare he’,_ his Lycan seethes, ‘ _how dare he try to hurt what is ours, how_ dare _he do this on our land, on our territory, we will tear him to pieces for this transgression’._

Decision made, objective selected, everything becomes… focused, for Seungcheol. He feels his Lycan side encroaching and reaches for it in greed. Let its rage and hunger peak, bleed through and gradually sink his humanity to the depths of the abyss. And with his mind clear, he’s able to do what he needs to.

He launches himself at the hunter, before the man can bolt. It’s a blur of light and a flash of red and a noise like something's tearing in two. Seungcheol can feel his own heartbeat in his throat, the vicious thrill of it that he promised he was never going to admit to, was never going to acknowledge again.

He had hoped to make this swift and bloodless, for _Jihoon’s_ sake—but his Lycan clearly has _other_ ideas.

Decapitation seems to be the flavour of the day, tearing the man in half is another. There's a grisly wet burst of blood, and the sharp crack of bone as Seungcheol’s claws grip each of the man’s shoulders and pull, shredding the body in two. Tossing one half to the side, he starts chewing his way through the other, a voice whispering to him all the while— _“See_ _what we can do together, when you don’t try and shut me down. Now take what you want—he’s right there. Take him, take him, take him.”_

It’s a litany he struggles to push aside, the two-syllable, single words repeating over and over make it almost impossible to keep the thrashing monster inside him subdued.

There’s a quiet thump from somewhere behind him and his ears prick upwards. He unlocks his jaw with a crack, pulls his teeth off the shoulder he’s chewing on and rolls his eyes towards the sound.

Oh. No….

 _Jihoon_.

Jihoon’s staring directly at him, mouth gaping soundlessly. He’s dropped to his knees on the ground, duffle bag at his side, hands still fisting Seungcheol’s jacket.

He looks at Seungcheol as if he’s a stranger, but there’s a dawning light of horror in his eyes, along with something darker and sharper, something that drags through Seungcheol’s bowels like a serrated blade and lodges in his throat.

He knows that expression, saw someone wear it before. Once upon a time. He looks into Jihoon’s stormy, beautiful eyes, and he finds…fear, revulsion, betrayal?

He turns away before his eyes make sense of it, something still human in him rebelling at the look in Jihoon’s eyes.

Backing away with a whine, Seungcheol claws at the Hunter’s dismembered body to tug it away with him. He ignores the punch of roiling hurt settling low in his gut, churning its discontent and scraping him raw to sprint down the street at breakneck speed towards the edge of the forest.

* * *

Within minutes of burying the body, Seungcheol breaks down. He nuzzles his head into the ground and howls.

For months, he’s done everything possible to protect Jihoon. Only to end up _here?_

_Like this?_

There’s clearly something irreparably damaged or missing inside of him that will ruin those he holds too close. A sick, shaking, desperate part of him that wants to just give _in_ to temptation. That's just sitting there waiting for him to stop fighting, that wants the _old_ him back. Every grizzly, horrible second of it, because it was familiar and easy, and everything since then has been hard.

Or maybe it's just exhausting to resist all the god damn time.

Sometimes it feels like that's all he has any more. The restraint, the need, the frustration. Like he's balanced on the edge and there's no room to take a step back. Or maybe he's cursed to forever stand in that narrow space with no room to fight. Maybe that's his punishment.

The truth of that is clearer now more than ever. Sometimes, no matter how hard Seungcheol tries, how many promises he makes—to himself, to other people—that part wins. It claws its way up his throat and turns everything red.

Four hundred years of it, it's understandable that it colours everything, that it shapes everything; a never-ending circle that always comes back to the beginning.

Even when he tries to do the right thing…..the look on Jihoon’s face…

Seungcheol grabs onto that hurt like a comforting shield, a familiar old friend that he pulls around himself.

He had been trying to fool himself into believing he could have this, could have Jihoon, could love someone and be happy together. But being with Seungcheol wasn’t going to make _Jihoon_ happy. It was going to hurt him, and Seungcheol long ago decided to destroy anyone that caused Jihoon harm. Anyone.

When he finally raises his head from the dirt, he doesn’t know how long he’s sat there whining pathetically.

It’s still dark out, the stars blinking from behind a thin cover of clouds. The dirt beneath his palms is red, syrupy. His fur damp and soaked in mottled, rusty red, carmine.

It's not always immediately obvious how bad you’ve hurt if you can't see the wound. No matter how many times you've been shot or stabbed you can't always be one hundred percent certain exactly how much damage you've taken. Adrenaline is both your best friend and your worst enemy. A flesh wound can take your legs out from under you, or you can run up a flight of stairs feeling fine, only to collapse at the top because you've run out of blood.

Seungcheol's more than aware of that while making his way through the forest, keeping a careful eye on how much blood he's losing. From what he can tell through the thick fur on his chest, the bullet holes are already healing over, leaving only the occasional spatter and drip trailing behind him.

He isn't going to collapse from blood loss or anything, but he’s going to need the bullets removed.

Only one person for the job, really.

* * *

Yoon Jeonghan doesn’t let himself panic.

Not anymore, anyway.

Maybe once upon a time he experienced emotions like fear and concern as a normal human would, but that all went by the wayside after his years in practice. Normal Veterinarians don’t make careers out of doing the things _he’s_ done.

And yet all that fortitude and discipline flies right out the window when his partner Jisoo messages him:

_‘There’s an honest to god Werewolf in our basement.’_

The text message is only ten minutes old when he first sees it, but his responding message doesn’t get a reply. Neither does the next one, nor any of the eleven phone calls he makes during the hour it takes for him to break free of work and race home. And it certainly doesn’t help his not-panic one bit that Jisoo isn’t answering the house phone, either.

Jisoo’s car is still in the drive when Jeonghan gets home. The front door is locked and the kitchen light on, which was thoughtful of the spooky bastard but does little to appease that oily sick feeling in Jeonghan's stomach, because he finds the house deathly quiet inside.

No sign of Jisoo or the ‘honest to god werewolf’.

Hunch has him grabbing his emergency pistol from the kitchen cabinet as he moves downstairs—prudence has him taking the safety off, holding it at his side but ready to be drawn. As he creeps silently down the stairs, he can hear the tumble dryer running which makes it impossible to hear anything else. But he can just make out a large, dark, folded-over shape in the corner; the slices of sunlight creeping through the small windows are just enough that he can pick out quick, jerky heaves of fur.

When his shoe hits the last step, he jumps and spins, aiming his gun on the intruder immediately. 

There _is_ an honest to go werewolf in his basement—but he’s not doing anything murderous or sinister. He’s just sitting there, slumped in front of the tumble dryer, looking like something that got dragged through the gutter and watching a red sock spin inside the machine.

“Jesus Christ— _Cheol_?” Jeonghan whispers incredulously as he lowers his weapon.

That may seem like the _stupidest_ thing to do when you find a werewolf in your basement, but Jeonghan knows Seungcheol’s file inside and out—wrote much of it himself, _actually_. He knows Seungcheol in human form is a lethal, ruthless man that’s drawn wire-tight on the best of days, just as much as he knows that Seungcheol, wolfed out, would have killed him already if that was his intention.

As it is, the Lycan barely acknowledges his presence with a grunt, still absorbed with the red sock spinning in the tumble dryer. 

Jeonghan puts the safety on his pistol and steps closer with deliberate movements, stopping just a few feet away to lean against the wall. Still out of reach.

“ _Seungcheol_.” He says the name clearly and assertively, the same tone that always worked for him when situations with Seungcheol got... tricky. “Finally decided to take me up on that dinner invite? It’s a little early though—but you’re welcome to stay for breakfast.”

The Lycan looks up at him with glassy, vacant eyes, then down to the gun in his hand. Several tense seconds pass before a hint of recognition sparks, then the Lycan huffs out an amused sound.

Jeonghan dares to roll his eyes at him. “Yeah, I _know_. It wouldn’t have done much to stop you, but I wasn’t sure who it would be. You’re not the only werewolf in town you know.”

He waits until it eventually becomes clear that Seungcheol has no intention to shift back. Normally he’d be willing to give Seungcheol all the patience needed, but he needs to know. “Where’s Jisoo?”

The Lycan gives no indication of hearing the question. He turns his gaze back toward the tumble dryer, snout moving in circles as he follows the red sock spinning inside.

Jeonghan reaches forward and stops the machine mid cycle and gets a throaty growl for his efforts.

“Yes, yes—you find it very entertaining, but I would really like to know where my husband is.”

The Lycan chuffs at him several times, clearly affronted and trying to convey _‘How the hell should I know—I didn’t eat him!’_

Jeonghan frowns and takes the opportunity to pull out his phone and send Jisoo a strongly worded text. The immediate and tart reply he receives goes a long way towards reducing his anxiety.

Trust Jisoo to think it was a sensible time to go to the gym when there was a werewolf in the basement.

“Alright—let’s talk.” Jeonghan says, pocketing his phone. “What happened?”

The Lycan continues to focus his attention on the silent tumble dryer, trying to turn it back on by butting his head against it.

Jeonghan flicks a small, hollow smile. “No—no more tumble dryer fun for you. Not until you tell me what happened.”

Seungcheol grunts at him, _emphatically_.

Jeonghan restrains the very real urge to find a newspaper, roll it up and smack Seungcheol on the snout. A gesture that would be completely warranted under the circumstances, he thinks….if he wasn't worried about a possible terrible _mauling_.

“I have no idea what you’re saying. I don’t speak wolf.” Jeonghan drawls. “Turn back so we can talk properly.”

Seungcheol hunches over a little, before he raises himself up on his back legs and stands.

He’s _looming_ over Jeonghan now, and that is more than a little terrifying when he’s a good _five feet taller_ and his eyes are bright crimson, and Jeonghan remembers, belatedly that you're not supposed to look a dog in the eye, because it will take that as an invitation to rip your face off. 

Thankfully the Lycan leaves Jeonghan’s face where it belongs, but he does lifts his snout in the air, chuffing arrogantly, before padding away towards the exit.

Jeonghan blows out a frustrated breath, “Alright—ya big _baby_.” He says, then slams the ‘on’ button on the dryer to start it spinning again.

Seungcheol’s back in a flash, shoving him out of the way to retake his seat in front of the machine.

Seriously, what is it with Lycan’s and the colour red?

It’s only then Jeonghan notices the droplets of blood speckled on the floor, the trails of red matting the fur along Seungcheol’s stomach and leg. There's a glint of something bright, jutting up out of the fur of his chest, just to the left of his heart.

“Have you been shot?” Jeonghan whispers, he doesn't know why he's whispering, “Jesus—hold on.”

Jeonghan rushes back up the stairs to fetch his Emergency bag, and while he’s at it he grabs a change of clothes for Seungcheol too.

Seungcheol’s still watching the tumble dryer like it’s teaching him the meaning of life when he returns, and doesn’t bat an eyelash when Jeonghan snaps on a pair of gloves and crouches down next to him. The minute Jeonghan pulls out his scalpel however—the Lycan starts rumbling loudly, like he knows what it’s for and he’s not happy it’s been invited to the laundry worshiping party.

“Now, you’re going to have to let me take those bullets out—and you’re not going to eat my face off.” Jeonghan says, in what he hopes is an assertive way.

The first bullet is easy enough to cut out, since it’s embedded in the thick muscle on the Lycan’s chest. The second one however, is lodged deeper in the tissue of his stomach and Seungcheol’s superior regenerative properties have already started building tissue over it, so Jeonghan has to slice _deep_.

It’s messy, nerve-wracking work—especially when Seungcheol's growling like he’s thinking about tearing Jeonghan’s arm off and eating it, and Jeonghan's going to have to explain why he has one arm to Jisoo later.

In all honestly, Jeonghan _likes_ his arms, and he would very much like them to remain where they are, because he’d be a pretty useless vet without them. But thankfully, he manages to cut through the flesh and reach the second bullet with his arms intact, and then sets the scalpel down to fetch his tweezers to yank it out.

Bracing his hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder to tilt him back a little, Jeonghan grimaces as his palm comes in contact with a drying patch of _muck_. Or at least, what he dearly hopes is mud. Patting his hand over the fur in search for a cleaner spot just reveals another, and another, until Jeonghan has to accept the fact that Seungcheol’s just _caked_ in the stuff. Like perhaps he’s been rolling around, sampling the delights of the forest floor before he made his way over here, and perhaps he decided to bring half the forest back with him—perhaps _on purpose_?

 _Classic Werewolf—_ Jeonghan titters to himself, knocking a handful of dirt off the fur before taking hold of Seungcheol’s shoulder again.

The tweezers go in and with a little wiggling he pulls the bullet out, letting it drop to the ground.

It’s silver and hollow, and _clearly_ designed to kill a vampire—which poses a new question, but the important thing is that it’s out.

Seungcheol’s low bass growl that had been going continuously drops low, and then stops completely and Jeonghan watches as the Lycan’s body ejects the molten silver from the wound and rapidly regenerates new tissue over it.

It’s not the first time he’s watched that particular trait in action, but it’s always damn fascinating.

“There we go,” Jeonghan can't help the shaky little noise of relief he makes, “And just in time too, you almost healed over them.”

Snapping his gloves off, he tosses them to the side before reaching down to pick up one of the bullets from the floor. “Has this got something to do with your baby vampire?” He asks the Lycan, holding the bullet up in demonstration.

The Lycan suddenly tenses, motionless. Wherever his mind is at—It’s not in that room. But Jeonghan isn’t a fool, and his marriage to Jisoo has had its fair share of rough patches. 

“Hmm—had a fight did you? Did you hurt him?” He asks.

The expressions on the Lycan’s face flicker too quickly for him to parse. _A no—a maybe._ It doesn’t answer his question. But, then, _maybe it does?_

“He found out what you are, didn’t he? And I’m guessing he didn’t like what he saw.”

The Lycan whines high in his throat, but it trails off as his shoulders droop in a signal of defeat. When he drops his gaze to the floor, he looks savagely miserable.

“Oh, Cheol. I’m so sorry.” Jeonghan offers helplessly, because he has no idea what else he’s supposed to say. He’s no therapist, and consoling your Lycan patient over their unrequited love for a baby Vampire it not exactly something you come across in Veterinary school. But he still feels like he should offer _something_.

“I know it’s probably the last thing you want to hear, but I truly believe everything happens for a reason. If my car hadn’t broken down that day on the highway, I wouldn’t have been ambushed by those shapeshifting Coyotes and you would have never saved my ass. We’d never have met, and I wouldn’t have been introduced to the wacky, wonderful world of werewolves. So, trust me when I say—it _will_ get better.”

The heavy, empty look he gets in response puts chills up and down his neck.

Jeonghan risks reaching out, putting his hand on Lycan’s shoulder. The touch is light at first—nonthreatening—but he grips just a little tighter when he feels how Seungcheol shakes. 

“There’s a change of clothes for you—when you feel like changing back, come upstairs for breakfast. _Only_ if you’ve changed. We just had the floors polished and I can’t have you scratching them all up with your claws.”

The Lycan’s eyes snap open then narrow on him in resentment.

Jeonghan levels him a sheepish look. “Have you ever _met_ Jisoo? He’ll kick my ass if we have to get those floors polished again.”

* * *

Seungcheol’s memories of leaving Jeonghan’s house are a haze.

He’s wearing clothes that are far too tight for one, and there’s food in his belly which suggests he stayed for breakfast, but everything else if kind of a _blur_.

It’s not unusual for there to be some memory loss when he shifts back, especially when he hasn’t shifted fully in so long—but he’s sure he didn’t commit any atrocities in that time. Though he vaguely recalls some kind of argument about table manners, and Jeonghan may or may not have pulled a gun on him when he attempted to take a tumble dryer with him as he left.

He’s got a single red sock in his hand though—and his Lycan side is pretty happy about that for some reason.

Guilt, habit, and a compelling, unspeakable need has him walking in the direction of home even though there’s nothing for him there anymore. He’ll just have to pack when he can carry on his back and move on.

It won’t be the first, or possibly the last time he’ll have to reinvent himself.

Even though he doesn’t know what he’s going to do, where he’s going to go, he’s certain he can’t stay in Seoul anymore. The world is full of options though—with safe houses, contacts, and favours owed on six continents—Seungcheol can literally go anywhere.

With no idea how long this self-exile of his is going to last however, he’s going to need some supplies if he’s going to get through even one day with his sanity intact. So he stops by a 24/7 convenience store on his way home, to stock up on some ‘ _essentials’_.

The early morning crowd give him odd looks and he can only _imagine_ what he must look like; wild eyed and dishevelled, skin grey and washed out; dressed in clothing two sizes too small and carrying a shopping basket filled with dubious items.

This should certainly help his reputation in the neighbourhood as the strange weirdo that people know to avoid.

When he gets home, he locks the door and drops his shopping bags in the living room, minus one key item. Settling into a stool in the kitchen, Seungcheol contemplates the bottle of vodka in his hands. Top-shelf stuff, no point in fooling around. And if he’s planning on getting shitfaced, he might as well do so with class.

It’s the most effective way of getting over a heavy heart he knows; his father gave him his first glass when his mother died; he drained whole bottles of the stuff when he destroyed his pack, and now—now he’ll swallow down shot after shot to rid himself of Jihoon and his scent and his baby fangs and his adorable scowls and everything that made Seungcheol’s heart glad to see him.

The phone starts ringing with an incoming call as he cracks open the lid. Seungcheol mutes it without checking the display and then, on second thought, rips the line out of the wall entirely.

There’s _nobody_ he wants to talk to right now.

 _Nobody_ can make him feel better. He’s just lost the best thing that’s ever happened to him and even if something tells him it’s for the best in the long run, the pain is worse than anything he’s ever felt.

Jihoon’s been the one constant in his life for the past few months—an anchor, a goal, more than just his friend because Seungcheol loves him in a way he’s never loved _anyone_. The crush of disappointment in himself is staggering—the silence of the house is stifling, and only then does Seungcheol realize how much he had _hoped_ Jihoon would be here when he got…

“Cheollie?”

Seungcheol jerks and nearly drops the bottle. But all the frenzied energy he’s being carrying under his—now raw—skin settles down at the first sound of _that voice._

Setting the bottle down, he looks up to find Jihoon standing in the doorway, and his breath rushes from his chest in a sudden flush of shock that sends alternating waves of cold and hot through his body.

His baby vampire is standing there, face pale and ashen and his clothes a mess, but there’s no fear in his expression. He’s alright. He’s okay, and he’s…. _here_?

“Oh god—you’re home!” Jihoon gasps, padding forward, his expression shaking between happiness and surprise and relief.

Seungcheol can only blink in mute shock. His vision washes into an over-exposed, brilliant image for a few seconds as his head spins and then steadies again.

“Jihoon.” Seungcheol says, stupefied.

In the space of a heartbeat, Jihoon’s there, right there, touching Seungcheol everywhere, like he’s afraid Seungcheol might vanish from under his hands. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay. Oh, _God_ —thank fuck you’re okay!” He says over and over, voice thin and worried. 

Bare footed, he’s light as a feather as he steps on Seungcheol’s boots to hug him.

Seungcheol’s heart is beating too fast, and he has his hands in Jihoon's shirt without realising it, dry material under his fingers, warm and crumpling under his palms.

When Jihoon pulls back, he cups Seungcheol’s face and stares up at him, his eyes red with fatigue and misery.

“I was so worried. I saw that you got shot—I thought you were _bleeding_ somewhere. I tried to follow you when you ran, but you were too fast. I had to come home when the sun started rising.”

“You’re here.” Seungcheol breathes. The words don’t sound real, just like this moment doesn’t feel real.

“Yes, of course I’m here Seungcheol—” Jihoon says, stroking his jaw tenderly before rearing back to thump in the shoulder.

Which— _ow_.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOU’RE FREAKING WEREWOLF!” Jihoon yells, heedless of the neighbours or Seungcheol’s super sensitive hearing.

And oh, boy—does he look _pissed_ now. Though the way he goes from concern to petulant rage so quickly is almost funny.

“I—I was, uhm.” Seungcheol boggles at him, there's no other word for it. His inner Lycan is scratching its head as well because Jihoon’s anger seems to stem from _‘not knowing’_ as opposed to _‘finding out and not liking it’._ There’s a complete absence of disgust in Jihoon’s expression, like he doesn’t care Seungcheol severed a man in half earlier, only that he would have liked to be informed in advance.

It’s an unexpected reaction, and _honestly_ —kind of comforting.

Though Seungcheol finds himself ducking his head, hunching his shoulders and whining _anyway_ because Jihoon’s now doing the _‘What do you have to say for yourself young man’_ —arm crossing, foot tapping, head shaking combo that says Seungcheol might find himself sitting in the naughty corner in a minute.

Getting relegated to the naughty corner is abject humiliation for a 400+ year old Lycan, but Seungcheol might have to go along with it or else Jihoon won’t let him have ice cream after dinner or something.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you—I just couldn’t find the right time.” Seungcheol murmurs, gaze focused on the linoleum floor where Jihoon’s still tapping an irate beat with his foot.

There's a disappointed tutting that on anyone else would sound ridiculous.

“We spend so much time together.” Oh crap, there’s finger waving now too. “You’re telling me there wasn’t a single opportunity for you to come out and say— _Hey, I’m a bad ass Werewolf by the way. Check this out._ ” Jihoon huffs.

Seungcheol lifts his head a fraction. “I didn’t know how you’d react. At first, I didn’t want to alarm you by showing you what _else_ was out there. You were having a hard enough time adjusting to just _being_ a vampire. Every time I thought about telling you, something would crop up—you ran away, you got shot, Soonyoung came into our lives. Then things started to calm down a bit and I thought about telling you again. But you freaked out when you saw that news report and—”

Seungcheol makes himself stop talking when Jihoon stiffens noticeably.

“Oh my god, that was _you_!” Jihoon gasps.

Seungcheol lifts his head to look at him. There’s still no disgust, just quiet awe. Jihoon’s eyes darken warmly, and if Seungcheol didn't know better he would think his baby vampire looks impressed.

Impressed at what, Seungcheol has no idea.

“I needed to protect you. I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” He wants that to be firm, but he sounds harried, he sounds winded.

Jihoon deflates a little, tucking away some of his anger. “You still should have told me.” His voice is soft and insistent. “I didn’t even _know_ werewolves existed, I nearly crapped my pants.”

“You’re right. I should have.” Seungcheol says, much more calmly then he feels.

“Damn right I’m right.” Jihoon snaps, right back at the crossed arms, foot tapping combo again. He still has some anger to work through obviously. The naughty corner is still on the cards.

“And where did you get those clothes?” He gestures impatiently. “Last I saw, your hairy ass was hightailing it down the street. Did you go shopping in the _nude_ while I sat here and worried about you?”

“No, no,” Seungcheol chokes back hysterical laughter, gesturing awkwardly at his ill-fitting ensemble. “Jeonghan gave them to me.”

“The Vet? Why did you—oh.” Jihoon’s face falls, jaw flickering. His eyes surge with tears and he blinks repeatedly to hold them at bay. “So you _did_ get shot. Oh fuck, I knew it. Let—let me see.” He whimpers, tugging Seungcheol’s shirt up hurriedly.

“There’s n-nothing there—it’s—it’s healed.” Seungcheol stutters through lips that feel numb. But Jihoon’s already got his T-shirt hiked up, fingers stroking frantically over warm skin, searching for non-existent bullet holes and sliding down ribs.

Seungcheol reaches down to grip his wrists gently, stilling them. “I’m fine Jihoonie. I hardly felt them.” He whispers.

It must be enough because Jihoon’s hands slide out of his grip, then reach up to settle on his shoulders. His expression twitches with a brief twinge of something that’s either regret or sorrow and then smooths out again.

“Don’t—don’t run away from me again Cheollie. I was so worried about you and I don’t want to feel like that again.” It's nothing and everything like Jihoon’s voice, and who knew the guy could sound so fucking commanding when he wanted to.

Seungcheol clears his throat, fighting back the embarrassing upwelling of emotion in his chest, and then rasps, “I won’t. I promise.”

“Good.” Jihoon breathes, dropping his head forward against Seungcheol’s chest.

Seungcheol huffs a laugh and he blames the dizziness, blames the surge of happiness, blames everything for how he dips his head, just enough, just far enough to kiss Jihoon’s head.

It's barely a kiss, just a brief instant of pressure.

Jihoon goes very still, sighs against him, and makes no move to pull away.

Seungcheol probably should've seen it coming, but he's completely blindsided when Jihoon suddenly lets him go, only to follow-up with those lovely long-fingered hands cupping his face and dragging him forward into a searing kiss. 

_Oh, God. Oh—fuck yes._

Seungcheol doesn't recognize the strangled sound from his own throat, but he’s surging forward, grabbing Jihoon and holding him tight.

There’s heat and wet and teeth sinking into his lower lip. There’s an eager body pressed against his, and fingers spearing in his hair. Exquisite friction through infuriating layers of clothes and desperation snapping tight in his chest as their noses bump and their tongues press deep.

This isn’t a first kiss, it’s a claiming.

Seungcheol breaks the kiss with a shudder but doesn’t pull back, instead pressing their foreheads together and panting past Jihoon’s parted lips.

“Thought I’d lost you,” Seungcheol pants, and despite the joyous hope suddenly tightening his throat, he has to say, “Though I’d scared you away forever. Thought you were afraid of me.”

“No, Cheollie,” Jihoon murmurs, fingers clutching Seungcheol’s hair and stroking down his chest. “Never.”

Seungcheol’s chest goes suddenly, unbearably wide and light, but it isn’t enough to stop him from reaching up and touching the vampire’s face. “Jihoon, _fuck_. You don’t know how much I’ve wanted this. Wanted you. I’m not a good guy—I shouldn’t be allowed to _have_ you.”

The words slip through the tide of lust and adrenaline they've been riding, and he looks away, abruptly unable to meet Jihoon's eyes. An instant later the strong hands framing his face force his head up, forcing eye contact and Jihoon just looks at him, swollen mouth and hungry dark eyes.

“Yes, you should. You can have anything you want.” He says, biting gently at Seungcheol’s lips.

This time, when Jihoon pulls him into a kiss, Seungcheol is ready for it.

It’s beautifully needy and eager. Seungcheol sinks in with his tongue, slanting his head to push in deeper. _More_.

He wants more. He wants everything.

His hands are restless points of contact, heated intent with no solid sense of direction, and Jihoon groans into the kiss as Seungcheol’s hands find their way up beneath his shirt to touch the skin beneath.

Jihoon is sucking on his tongue, tugging at his hair, moaning in a filthy way that does things to Seungcheol’s cock and even with so many other distracting sensations vying for his attention, Seungcheol doesn’t miss the heated line of Jihoon’s erection against his thigh.

One of Jihoon’s hands slips away from Seungcheol’s hair, and Seungcheol has all of a moment to feel bereft before Jihoon is manoeuvring that hand between them, finding Seungcheol’s fly with nimble fingers.

Seungcheol’s not too proud to admit that the next sound out of his throat is a whimper, but Jihoon swallows it like an offering and feeds a moan back into Seungcheol’s mouth instead.

Seungcheol's sure—so goddamn sure—he could find release this way, but he wants to move this to the bedroom, somewhere where he can spread Jihoon out beneath him.

His hands sweep down, blind and grasping, and find Jihoon’s hips, holds them with a grip guaranteed to bruise. Jihoon must have the same thought because now he’s crying out into the kiss, broken whimpers that empty the remaining blood from Seungcheol’s brain and sends it south. And still he keeps pushing, eating the wanton sounds off Jihoon’s lips while he presses forward with his hips, making his intentions clear.

Jihoon responds with frantic little thrusts, so Seungcheol gathers him up, gripping bruises into his hips as he lifts him off his feet. The vampire hooks his legs behind the small of Seungcheol’s back, breaks the kiss with a frustrated moan, body squirming for more friction. “Cheol, please. Want you.”

“Yeah, _mine_ ,” Seungcheol growls, scraping his teeth down Jihoon’s throat. “You’re mine.”

“Yours,” Jihoon gasps and bucks against him. “Bed. Now. _Please_.”

Seungcheol’s eyes practically roll up into the back of his head when he feels their cocks rubbing together through their clothes.

It’s almost too much. Jihoon—his Jihoon, his baby vampire—in his arms again and begging to be fucked.

Looks like he can have everything he wants after all.


	9. Monster Mash

It’s not easy, manoeuvring through the house when there’s two people who are unwilling to take their hands or mouths off each other, even for a second, but they manage all right.

Okay, yes—there are two dents in the wall along the corridor and a door knocked off its hinges—but who gives a shit. All Seungcheol registers is a clash of lips and teeth, frantic and messy and altogether too fast.

Jihoon is practically vibrating when Seungcheol brings his hands up, cradling his face and trying to slow the kiss to an easier pace.

"Slow down Jihoonie," Seungcheol manages, with what he thinks is a heroic amount of coherence.

Jihoon's having none of it though, huffing a frustrated breath through his nose and curling his hands into fists in Seungcheol’s shirt, murmuring words into the kiss that sound like 'stupid' and 'sexy' and 'werewolf.'

Seungcheol's helpless to do anything but grunt agreement while Jihoon’s fingers begin to work frantically on his belt buckle. It falls somewhere near the door and Seungcheol ends up shoved against the wall, trying to drag air while Jihoon bites the side of his neck with more enthusiasm than kindness. He hisses in a way that Jihoon seems to think means 'do it again'

Maybe it _does._

Seungcheol's pulse is roaring in his ears and Jihoon's hands won't stay still, sliding and catching on every part of Seungcheol they find. Greedy and fascinated. Seungcheol's hands are busy too, trying to push under Jihoon’s T-shirt, but before he can manage it, Jihoon’s taking a sudden step back and grasping the hem, pulling it slowly up and off.

 _Seriously now? Now he wants to go slow?_ -Seungcheol dismays, tracking every inch of bared flesh as Jihoon's stomach, his chest, his collarbones all become visible. He mistakes the slow pace for hesitation at first, but when Jihoon tosses the shirt aside and reaches for the button of his jeans, there's a twinkle in his eyes that makes Seungcheol reassess.

_Fucking tease._

Okay, so, Jihoon had noticed his roaming gaze, caught him drooling for those gradual inches of skin. So Jihoon knows he’s been having dirty, lustful thought about him all along. Seungcheol finds, to his surprise, that he doesn't mind in the slightest.

Jihoon's movements are a deliberate tease, calculated and measured as he pops the button on his jeans and then slowly, slowly, slowly pulls down the zipper to reveal extra inches of the flat planes of his stomach, and finally the black fabric of the boxers beneath.

Seungcheol doesn't breathe until Jihoon has finished stepping out of the denim he leaves pooled on the floor, and the sight of his vampire standing there in his boxers really shouldn't be hitting him this hard. Lord knows he's seen Jihoon parade around in the tiniest of shorts hundreds of times before, but this is new—this is the first time it's been all for _him._ This is the first time Jihoon has stood there looking at him like _that,_ goddamn _smouldering_ at him, and Seungcheol flushes hungrily. It's all he can do not to tackle Jihoon to the bed right this second.

Jihoon approaches him with new confidence when Seungcheol finally manages to lift his eyes to the vampire’s face. He steps close and raises his hands to Seungcheol's chest, resting them there for a meaningful moment before attacking the buttons of Seungcheol's shirt with smooth, skilful grace.

Seungcheol just stares at him, feeling suddenly famished for his touch and so goddamn eager, _fuck,_ he's ready to burst out of his skin. He cooperates when Jihoon urges him out of his sleeves, and then lifts his arms obligingly when Jihoon moves to tug his t-shirt up and over his head.

He's probably supposed to hold still longer, let Jihoon reach for his pants too, but the Lycan beneath Seungcheol's skin is growling impatiently. Jihoon is close enough to taste, close enough for his sweet scent to wiggle past Seungcheol's defences, and instead of standing still like he's supposed to, Seungcheol growls and drags the vampire against him.

He grabs blindly for the waistband of Jihoon's boxers, yanking at them once he has hold, and his blood thrills at the taste of Jihoon's surprised curse against his lips. Jihoon actually breaks the kiss to gasp a loud, startled, "Cheollie!" when Seungcheol hoists him up and carries him three feet to the bed.

They go down in an undignified topple, landing in a sprawl of limbs, but Seungcheol comes out on top, and he pins Jihoon to the mattress with licks and kisses and claiming hands.

Jihoon obviously doesn't mind. He twists his body cooperatively when Seungcheol moves to divest him of his boxers, and writhes just right when Seungcheol licks a stipe up the hot, heavy weight of his pretty cock.

"You're beautiful," Seungcheol says, and he doesn't need much light to know there's an eye-roll happening across from him.

"You're biased."

"Biased doesn't mean I'm wrong." Seungcheol says, letting his fingers trace and retrace the fine lines of Jihoon's skin, the quivering muscle of his stomach, the squishiness of his inner thighs. He drops a delicate line of kisses down Jihoon's sternum all the way to his belly, pleased with the fully hard cock that rises to greet him.

In turn, Jihoon's hands drift over his hair, the back of his neck. All their touches feel lazy now, as if each is as important as any other, and Seungcheol thinks maybe this is what true arousal is, touches so profoundly worshipful that every nerve ending is singing with it. He thinks it's entirely possible he could come just from touching Jihoon like this—learning the subtle shifts of his skin, the small moans and stuttering breaths. He just wants to touch and kiss and lick, and he smiles when he sucks Jihoon’s cock lightly. It's enough to make the man beneath him arch into the touch without reservation.

"Wait," Jihoon gasps as Seungcheol swipes his tongue over the head. "Cheollie, wait, fuck, what about you?"

And yeah, Seungcheol's own erection is a straining, uncomfortable pressure in the confines of his jeans, but he's got Jihoon laid out and writhing, bucking in anticipation, and he can't be bothered to shift his attention just now. He breathes hotly, a little cruelly, given the circumstances, and then takes Jihoon’s dick in just far enough to tongue under the crown. He sucks gently, rolling his tongue round the smooth, salty-slick head. Light and teasing, all velvet softness and tender suction.

“Cheol—” Jihoon whines, “Don’t. It’s not fair.”

Seungcheol smiles and sinks down further, pursing his lips loosely round Jihoon’s shaft. He pulls off to suck sloppy open-mouthed kisses where Jihoon’s cock meets his body. His hand moves up to pinch and twist at Jihoon’s nipples, then back down to thumb the crease of his thigh whilst he licks up the length of Jihoon’s shaft, tongue pointed, tracing the throbbing vein.

He could do this for hours, happily, but it’s not in the cards, not today. Already, Jihoon is wound tight, shuddering uncontrollably. Too soon, the shudders start to escalate into straining tension, and Seungcheol pulls off, not wanting to work Jihoon beyond the last of his control just yet.

“Cheol—please.” Jihoon murmurs, soft and vulnerable, and from any other vampire that would seem practiced, a ploy, but Jihoon isn't any vampire, and want clenches Seungcheol's belly, hot and undeniable.

He has to leave the bed entirely to snatch the lube from the bathroom. He tries to be quick about it, before Jihoon can shape a vague thought of coming after him, but he’s not quick enough.

"Seungcheol," Jihoon calls out roughly. Impatience maybe, or just an accusation of abandonment.

“I can’t find the fucking lube!” Seungcheol growls, upending the contents of the bathroom cabinet in his search.

When he comes storming back into the bedroom, he’s greeted with the sight of Jihoon fingering himself. The irascible little shit is nuzzling his face into Seungcheol’s pillow, inhaling his scent and clearly getting off on it.

Seungcheol tuts. “Hey—no having fun without me.”

“You took too long,” Jihoon says, sounding out of breath.

“You stop that right now,” Seungcheol says, putting his hands on his hips. “Cause I am this close to wolfing out again, and fuck knows you don’t want that side of me to join the party.”

“Oh?” Jihoon’s legs fall open in tacit permission. “Is that supposed to be scary?” He adds and the tone is low, approving and vaguely obscene.

Interesting.

Strike that.

One hell of a turn-on.

"Jesus." Seungcheol breathes, chucking the lube on the bed so he can fight free of his jeans entirely.

Jihoon watches with quiet laughter when one leg snags at the ankle, still smiling when Seungcheol kicks both pants and boxers off the side of the bed and slides on top of him. Mission Get Naked Right The Hell Now apparently accomplished, and Jihoon groans approval when Seungcheol settles between his thighs. Their chests slide sweat-slick together with every jostling movement, and Jihoon throws his head back against the pillows when Seungcheol starts working along his collarbone in quick, nipping kisses. He whispers Jihoon's name, ragged and rattling, and slides his hands up Jihoon's thighs, drags them along his flank to skim the smooth firmness of his belly.

Seungcheol loves the look and feel of Jihoon's skin, unblemished, every curve and angle firm and perfect. Everything is pale under his hands, pale and slender and touchable, touchable in a way that's fragile and Seungcheol is suddenly afraid to….

“Just a heads up,” Seungcheol says, his voice is a mess and the words run together, come out breathless. “When I get really excited during sex my dick does this—thing.”

“Ejaculation? It’s okay Cheol—don’t be embarrassed to use big words. It’s totally normal.” Jihoon snickers.

“No, no, not that. It’s a wolf thing.” Seungcheol huffs. He drops his voice at a murmur, with a tone of confiding something he trusts Jihoon with. “It kind of gets larger and seals me inside you. But not forever—just around twenty minutes or so. Though it’s been a while so—let’s just say thirty minutes to be safe.”

Jihoon offers him the slowest, slow blink of all time.

“Your dick—gets larger?” Jihoon’s voice is now pitched equally low.

Seungcheol exhales shakily. “Yeah.”

“Larger than it already is?”

“Yep.”

Jihoon’s breathing has changed; Seungcheol can sense that his skin has grown warmer, that his sweat has taken on a scent that hits Seungcheol’s nose like a shot of oxygen. He has to bite his lip.

“And you want to keep it inside of me…after we finish…for forty minutes?”

“Yes please. Though, technically—we won’t be finished….because I’ll still be coming.” Seungcheol cuts himself off and looks suddenly, blushingly away.

All this talking is bringing vivid images into his head and making his body feel hotter. It’s hard to concentrate on explaining things to Jihoon when he just wants to inhale his scent, mark him; taste him, and take him. No explanations, just his driving eagerness and Jihoon’s willing body....

Seungcheol looks up suddenly, needing to see Jihoon's eyes, to convey some kind of reassurance, but now Jihoon’s face is a mask of uncertainty.

He wishes he could give his baby vampire the blanket reassurance of words like, 'It won’t hurt, I do this all the time' but he doesn't. Knotting is reserved for intimacy, and he doesn’t want to make guarantees that could still fall flat and prove disastrous. This is all too new, and Seungcheol doesn't want to jinx it.

“We don’t have to. I can pull out before I come.” Seungcheol says, voice sounding tight even to his own ears.

The moment is tense and weirdly expectant, but then Jihoon laughs, a soft, ragged sound that brings them back down to a steadier reality.

"Yes, we do." says Jihoon, running his fingers idly through Seungcheol's hair. "I’m just struggling to imagine your dick getting any bigger. It’s kind of huge already. But I want this, all of you. I want to feel you for days."

Seungcheol looks at him critically—at least, as much as he can manage. Jihoon is nervous, yes, but excited, interested. Eager.  
“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Jihoon says, just that syllable almost sounding like a pant. His lips part, and Seungcheol has to kiss him again.

Jihoon makes a soft sound as he swoops back in for another kiss, accepting the intrusion of Seungcheol’s tongue easily, hands pulling him closer and closing the distance between every inch of their bodies. Skin on skin on skin, and what higher brain function Seungcheol might've been capable of flies straight away. His world constricts to this, to the perfect, grinding pressure of Jihoon's hips against his own, Jihoon's hands along his back, Jihoon's dick hard and hot as his own between them. He groans so far down in his throat that it's a wonder sound comes out, slides one hand down between Jihoon's thighs to his ass, one finger finding and teasing that tight ring of muscle.

Jihoon whimpers so beautifully at that, Seungcheol has to fight hard not to come in a pre-emptive sticky mess between them. He cracks open the lube impatiently, slicking his fingers up and trying to breathe through how frantic he feels, at least to an extent. Despite how much he wants this, he’s quietly freaking out. It’s been quite a while since he’s fucked anyone that wasn’t Lycan because it never seemed worth the trouble, holding 80% of himself back.

There’s a special pleasure that comes with not having to be careful of his strength, but at the same time—this is Jihoon. Jihoon is young and inexperienced and Seungcheol’s been called reckless more than a few times in his life, not without good reason, but he's not prepared to take unnecessary risks with his baby vampire.

He bends low, placing Jihoon’s legs on his shoulders and pushes one flinger in slowly, curiously, watching the way Jihoon reacts, the way his hips twitch and his breathing goes short and messy. The way he tightens around him and groans.

"You don’t know how much I’ve thought about this, touched myself thinking of you." Jihoon says, and his voice comes out thready and soft. Like Seungcheol has wrecked him already.

“Fuck, Jihoonie.” Seungcheol groans, because he does know, he just doesn’t know why he waited so long to do something about it.

No more waiting now.

He adds a second finger, scissoring Jihoon open until Jihoon spreads his knees further apart and starts to rock his hips back. The third finger is a tighter fit. Seungcheol strokes the stretched rim with his thumb, sucks the head of Jihoon’s cock into his mouth to distract him from the burn. 

Jihoon moans brokenly, face turned into the sheets. His thighs tighten against Seungcheol’s shoulders, muscles quivering around Seungcheol’s fingers, clamping down hard at the slightest push or twist.

Seungcheol swallows. “It’s been a while. Tell me if I’m being too rough, if I’m going too fast for you baby.” 

“You’re fine, it’s good.” Jihoon breathes.

Just to make sure, Seungcheol works his fingers deeper, distracting Jihoon with his kisses and the light scrape of teeth along his throat. Soon Jihoon’s head is thrown back on a breathy gasp as Seungcheol works him open with four slick fingers, impatient to replace them with his dick.

"Enough," Jihoon groans. "Fuck, want your dick in me already."

Which is all the invitation Seungcheol needs to slide his fingers out and slick his cock up, smearing the precum gathering at the tip down his shaft.

One knee on the bed, one foot planted into it for leverage, he grips Jihoon’s hips and sinks into him like a dream, whining low in his throat at the sensation of Jihoon's ass surrounding him, muscles working around him as Jihoon shifts to accommodate.

Jihoon muffles a scream beneath him, eyes squeezed shut and fingers grasping Seungcheol’s shoulders.

Seungcheol presses in as deeply as he can, hissing at the feeling, at the deliciously tight fit. Jihoon writhes and pitches his body forward slightly as Seungcheol bottoms out.

“If I hurt you, really hurt you,” Seungcheol grits out, voice tight as he draws out and slides back in, smooth, “you have to tell me to stop.”

“I can take it!” Jihoon gasps back, rolling his hips.

Seungcheol gives a groan of his own as he takes what Jihoon is offering, pumping his hips to a new, hard rhythm as Jihoon writhes beneath him and meets him halfway.

"Oh god." Seungcheol leans in, hands braced on either side of his head, folded over Jihoon and for a minute Seungcheol forgets, forgets everything but Jihoon's skin under his fingers, the tight squeeze of his thighs and the way his head is bowed into his shoulder, groaning into the skin while Seungcheol gets lost, completely lost in every push.

He’s not gentle; any thought for patience and consideration has become subsumed by the urge to mate, to mark his territory, to claim Jihoon as his and take. He fucks Jihoon fast and hard, in all the way to the hilt and only sliding out an inch before pushing back in again harder, again and again, in a rapid, frantic rhythm.

"Fuck yes, fuck me—fuck me, fuck me." Jihoon groans, arching against Seungcheol in a lewd stretch that bares his throat and makes it impossible for Seungcheol to slow down.

From the way Jihoon‘s moaning softly in time, Seungcheol’s nailing his prostate with each thrust. The windows are open, and the air is silent but for the sounds of birds, and Seungcheol and Jihoon's gasping, groaning pants, heavy breaths echoing in uneven staccato.

 _It’s too good, too perfect_ —Seungcheol thinks in a daze, Jihoon’s body taking him—tight as anything, his scent—hitting Seungcheol like a drug. They move together so well, made for each other.

"Mate," Seungcheol breathes, and Jihoon hiccups on his next moan.

Seungcheol wants to kiss Jihoon again, but he's pretty sure he doesn't have the coordination for it, so he mouths along Jihoon's throat instead—easy to do, since Jihoon has his head thrown back on the world's longest moan, leaving the pale, slender line of his neck right there and so deliciously vulnerable.

Seungcheol has to taste him, has to bite him.

He's careful not to break the skin as he sucks at the flesh between his teeth, worrying at it and claiming it, leaving what he hopes will be a spectacular hickey come tomorrow. Jihoon freezes for a moment and then moans louder. Seungcheol moves faster, and harder, driving into him.

God he never wants this to end—but just like that, it does.

There's wetness sliding over his chest and stomach and Jihoon’s clenching down around his dick, breathing a strangled mess of a words in his ear. “Cheol—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”

Everything is suddenly hot and white at the edges and so good he can't breathe. He gasps Jihoon's name as he orgasms, swallows his own name from Jihoon's lips in a kiss. The tell-tale swell at the base of his cock grows bigger, and Seungcheol slams himself in as deep as he can go, one final time. He needs this, he needs to spurt his come deep inside Jihoon, needs to own him.

“Cheol, are you..” Jihoon gasps, a thread of panic in his voice.

“Bear down,” Seungcheol says, surprised he can even speak at this point. “Bear down and it’ll stop.”

His knot continues to swell, stretching Jihoon so wide it feels obscene, all warmth and pressure and Jihoon’s thighs trembling around him.

Jihoon’s body finally reaches the limit of what it can take and clamps down hard, fighting the intrusion. It’s enough for Seungcheol to stop swelling, his cock firmly seated and locking them together. Seungcheol moves in close, plastering his body to Jihoon’s, turning to nose at the sweaty hair at his temple. He can smell the spike of adrenaline and pleasure from the vampire when he continues coming, hips grinding in short rolls that send pleasure licking up his spine.

“Oh—wow, so much,” Jihoon breaks off suddenly, gasping, and Seungcheol can tell he is squeezing his cock, tightening around Seungcheol again. “Too much! Ahnn—Cheollie!”

“Shhh, I’ve got you,” Seungcheol says automatically, voice raw.

The words seem to have a calming effect, so he goes on talking, more for the sound of it than anything. He pets Jihoon as he speaks, long soothing strokes up and down his thigh while his body steadily pumps him full of his come.

Jihoon slowly, slowly relaxes, tension leeching gradually out of him until his muscles are slack under Seungcheol’s hand.

“I’m so full.” Jihoon says, shuddering. “I’ve never felt so full before.”

His face is flushed pink, glistening with sweat. Seungcheol licks at his throat, presses his mouth to Jihoon’s skin, nuzzles him. Gentles him, really, out of instinct. But although Jihoon’s eyes are shut and he’s panting harshly, it isn’t due to pain; there is no spike of pain in his scent.

“I can’t pull out until it goes down,” Seungcheol murmurs, unnecessarily. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jihoon replies hoarsely, shifting his hips, as if to feel Seungcheol’s knot better.

After a stuttering moment of uncertainty Seungcheol's left watching the way Jihoon's belly twitches under every pulse of his cum, which Seungcheol thinks is going to be a fetish for the rest of his life. Watching anything else leaves him in danger of losing the frayed edges of what control he possesses. So he forces his eyes not to stray to where he's swollen inside, to what he's doing because he thinks that just might kill him.

Jihoon breathes in when Seungcheol's hand flattens on his stomach, then presses back into him, hard enough for Seungcheol to feel his knot where it’s twitching inside. 

"Cheol—oh," Jihoon groans, hands fisting into the pillows. "God! I’m—I’m-" He snares Seungcheol's attention by tightening, maddeningly, impossibly around him and coming again.

The coughed-out sob sounds like praise to Seungcheol’s ears, and he pets down Jihoon’s flank, over his thighs as the pulsing of his own cock begins to abate.

“Gonna be hard for me to get soft if you keep turning me on like that,” Seungcheol grunts, but Jihoon just laughs softly.

Seungcheol’s finished his spill, but he’s still too large to slip out easily, so he shifts them to a more comfortable position, turning them over so Jihoon is sprawled over him, speared on his dick. The sheets underneath them are cool, and Jihoon curls into him like a cat as Seungcheol holds him close, buries his nose in his hair and breathes him in.

* * *

Seungcheol doesn’t know how long it’s been when his knot relaxes, but forty minutes seems like a good enough estimate.

He’s not certain which sound he likes best: the wet, obscene noise his cock makes as it slips from Jihoon’s ass, or the tiny mewl that leaves Jihoon at the same moment, but both have his dick back to full straining hardness in mere seconds. Jihoon probably couldn't handle another round right now though, and Seungcheol's not stupid enough to lobby for one, so he immediately re-diverts his attention, putting a hand to Jihoon’s taut belly, rubbing soothing circles and massaging the trembling muscles. 

Rolling Jihoon on his back again, he spreads him open with thumb and forefinger, watching wetness drip out of him, smearing his cheeks and the insides of his thighs.

There’s a lot of come—like, a _whole_ lot of it. Jihoon’s a small guy and Seungcheol can’t help but feel guilt churn low in his belly even as his Lycan gives him a mental thumbs up and offers him a post coital cigar.

Jihoon lets out a shuddering breath as Seungcheol rubs gentle fingers around the puckered skin, red and swollen.

Seungcheol doesn’t realise he’s whining guiltily until Jihoon laughs and pets his hair. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, it was awesome Cheollie.” Jihoon's got a softer expression on his face now, warm and appreciative, and the look is already melting Seungcheol to goo.

Carefully, Seungcheol holds Jihoon open again for inspection, brows furrowing.

"Well then, would you mind of I....." He starts, then doesn't know how to finish the sentence, doesn’t know how to _ask._ But he leans in anyway, runs his tongue where Jihoon is still warm and sore and slick with his come because he’s sure Jihoon won’t mind. The vampire just let Seungcheol enthusiastically knot him—there really isn’t anything more intimate than _that._

He’s still half-expecting _some_ form of protest, a discouraging shove or even a _'gross, don't'_ , but Jihoon's awesomely pliant about it; he just spreads his thighs and makes low, choked noises in his throat as Seungcheol licks into him. 

"Is this a _Lycan_ thing, or are you just a giant pervert?" Jihoon drawls after a moment. 

He sounds too amused for his own good, so Seungcheol hikes his legs up higher and wiggles his tongue in deeper, as deep as it will go, until Jihoon's yelping and arching off the bed and well...

Round two's kicking off a lot sooner than Seungcheol expected. 


	10. I Slept So Long

When Seungcheol wakes up, it’s not by choice. It’s because the glaring red numbers on the bedside clock declare it to be well past midday and edging into the evening.

“I don’t want to go to _school_.” He cries out to nobody in particular.

“Isn’t that your work alarm?” Jihoon grunts, sleep-rough, but with a hint of humour.

Seungcheol’s eyes pop open so fast his forehead twinges. It _is_ his work alarm, but he really doesn't want to leave. They've been in a hazy, pleasant bubble of sex and kissing and napping all day, and he isn't quite ready to drag on clothes and work an eight-hour shift.

“You know what?—I don’t care. I don’t give a shit. Fuck work, fuck _all_ of them. What are they gonna do— _fire me?”_ He grumbles into Jihoon’s hair, realising immediately that it’s absolutely a possibility. “Actually, I should _probably_ phone them and say I’ll be running late or something.” 

“But I’m comfortable.” Jihoon mumbles sleepily against his sternum.

“I'm sorry, sorry, I’ll only be a few minutes.” Seungcheol smiles, rolling out of bed.

He finds his cellphone in his jacket pocket, returned safely to the coat hook in the hallway by Jihoon last night. It’s out of battery, so he hooks it up to the charge and switches it on. Right away the screen lights up with notifications. Over thirty missed calls and messages. The first third or so are from Namjoon, no doubt provoked by his warning yesterday. The rest from work.

Even as Seungcheol stares at the screen, the phone comes alive with an incoming call and he swipes to reject it, opting instead to fire of a message to Wonwoo to ask him to swap shifts.

When he pads back into the bedroom, Jihoon hasn’t budged from under the blankets, still wedged in the groove of the bed where Seungcheol lay, with only his feet and the very top of his head poking out from the covers. 

It's fascinating to watch him if Seungcheol's being honest, because there was a time he truly thought Vampires to be the _traditional_ sort when it cames to rest: used to sleeping fully clothed and face-up on top of the covers, arms crossed over their chests with their perfectly coifed head resting on the pillows as neatly as a complimentary mint.

Jihoon, though, seems to be a pro at challenging stereotypes even _unconsciously_ , and happens to be something of a hedonist when he naps. He's currently stretched out on his belly, drooling and snoring and snuffling into his pillow; a literal sitting duck for all manner of nefarious folk who could conceivably come bursting in.

Smirking, Seungcheol perches near the bottom of the bed and curiously glides a fingertip along the sole of one foot, watching as Jihoon giggles sleepily, toes curling a bit in response.

Inch by inch, Seungcheol slips his hand up beneath the cover, letting his fingers run across Jihoon’s ankle, down the back of his heel, touch teasing and feather light.

Jihoon tolerates it for a moment, then laughs and squirms, leg jerking reflexively. He doesn't try and pull himself free through, and it's enough to encourage Seungcheol, to lift one foot up and kiss the dip of the joint tenderly.

Above him, there’s a muffled groan as Jihoon lifts his head enough to muzzily say, “Cheollie—it tickles.”

“ _Good_ ,” Seungcheol says blithely, whipping the blanket to the side so Jihoon’s completely exposed, sleepy and naked and stretching.

Jihoon wrinkles his nose adorably when Seungcheol kisses up his calf, shivering as Seungcheol lets his teeth drag against the bone. Gradually, Seungcheol kneads upward with both hands, enjoying how ticklish Jihoon is at the bend of his knee and even more so when Seungcheol brushes his fingers along the inside of his thighs.

Seungcheol tracks the same path with his mouth, then again with his tongue, then just to make Jihoon whine, flirts his tongue into Jihoon's bellybutton and blows cold air into it.

Jihoon _does_ whine, but his eyes are half closed and his cock is half hard, wet and flushed at the tip, and when he subtly lifts his hips, pressing up into Seungcheol's hand, Seungcheol can't help but groan in response.

He's not sure if Jihoon's _aware_ of the significance of that simple gesture, but if anyone ever showed their belly to him in a sweeter way, he can’t remember it.

When he finishes his tender exploration, his vampire is mostly awake and watching him thoughtfully, a vague, tender smile on his face.

Seungcheol shifts to hover over him and presses a soft kiss to his mouth. Mostly because his eyes are still clouded over with sleep and his hair is a mess, but a little bit because he's _him._

Running impulsive fingers through the fringe of hair drooping over Jihoon’s eyes, Seungcheol whispers, “What are you thinking of?”

“I was just thinking about how many clues I missed.” Jihoon murmurs. He reaches up with his free hand and smooths Seungcheol’s own errant curls back, dragging his fingertips over his face. He traces the outer shell of Seungcheol’s ear, then drops his hand.

“Now when I look back, it should have been so _obvious_ with some of the weirder stuff you said and all the hints Soonyoung kept dropping about _petting_ and _belly rubs_. I always thought it was strange how you weren’t scared of me when we first met. You were so chill about a vampire trying to feed on you—it makes sense now.”

Seungcheol stretches out next to him on the bed, “Yeah—you _are_ a little slow on the uptake.” He admits, earning an insincere glower.

“ _Hey_ , I’m still kind of new to all of this, _jerk_.” Jihoon protests, albeit half-heartedly as Seungcheol chooses that moment to reach out and drag him against his chest again.

“It’s not your fault. Lycans blend in a lot better than vampires. It’s not unusual that people don’t pick up on it. And you’d never been taught what to look out for or had a chance to recognise our scent. Even some older Vampires haven’t had experience with Lycans. There isn’t that many of us around anymore—and we’re pretty spread out.”

Jihoon raises his head from where it’s pillowed on Seungcheol's shoulder, and frowns. “Why’s that?”

Seungcheol sighs at the ceiling and runs his hand lightly, teasingly, down Jihoon's spine.

“Lots of reasons really. Our conversions are more _complicated_ for one; there’s a fine line between biting someone and _killing_ them, and we sort of struggle to straddle that line. Also, Lycans aren’t the most _sociable_ people. Lone wolf isn’t just a saying, it’s a state of mind for us. Unless we're part of a pack, we don’t really interact with each other. Two or more Lycans in the same area can get _messy_. We’re pretty territorial, as you may have noticed.”

“Not really,” Jihoon nudges at Seungcheol's nose, barely brushing their lips together. “Not with you anyway. I mean—you let me into your home pretty much straight away. And you share things with me and you’ve never complained about it. _I live in your closet_ —Cheol. That doesn’t strike me as something a territorial person would allow.”

Seungcheol's eyes flutter shut briefly, and then he frames Jihoon's face in his hands, “It’s different with you. You’re special.”

Jihoon blinks at him, his lips parting in surprise. “ _Why_?”

“I don’t know. I’ve thought about it, and I don’t know. Maybe it’s because you’re still a baby, and not really a threat to me.”

Jihoon arches an eyebrow, as if it say, _Seriously?_

“Not a threat?” He echoes incredulously. “I can kick your ass.”

Seungcheol holds back a snort.

“Of course, you can. So dangerously deadly with those little, precious, _baby fangs.”_ He coos, smiling wryly at the playful frown on Jihoon's face.

He silences Jihoon’s indignant protests with a kiss, then wraps an arm snugly around his waist to hold him close against the length of his body. Crooking his other arm around Jihoon, he threads his fingers absently through his hair, rubbing at his scalp, which makes Jihoon murmur happily and arch into his touch.

For a while they lie snaked comfortably together, Jihoon’s head resting against Seungcheol's shoulder, his hands running up Seungcheol's sides, over the dips on his abdomen, as if memorizing the geography of his body.

“So, are we like mortal enemies?” Jihoon asks suddenly.

Seungcheol bursts out laughing. “What?”

“I mean—our _species_.” Jihoon elaborates.

Seungcheol attempts a shrug, but only succeeds in jostling Jihoon with the movement.

“Meh, once upon a time, _sure_. We used to compete for the same food source, and territory. I’m not sure why _our_ species specifically disliked each other when there are a lot of other non-humans out there to fight with. But whatever origin of the feud, it’s even older than me. Now there’s so many laws regulating our movements and restricting violence, we mostly just try and get along by staying out of each other’s way as much as possible.”

Jihoon is staring up at him now, deep and pensive and, not scowling exactly, but his eyebrows are drawn tightly together.

“What do you mean by ‘older that _even_ me’? How old _are_ you?”

Seungcheol stifles the urge to look away. “Uh—let’s _not_ go there.”

Seungcheol’s age is apparently not a dodge-able topic, since Jihoon moves to straddle his waist, using Seungcheol's shoulder as a chin rest so they can have this conversation face-to-face.

“Oh, now I _have_ to know.” Jihoon says, mouth set serious while his eyes sparkle with smile. “Based on appearance, I would have pegged you as twenty-six—maybe _late twenties_. But now I’m guessing you’re even _older_. Not gonna lie—that’s pretty hot.”

And heaven help him, Jihoon grins. It’s a mischievous, slightly evil grin, but there nonetheless.

Seungcheol reaches up to finger a dimple and actually sighs. “Yeah—well I’m glad you think so. Cause I haven’t been twenty-six in a long time.”

After Jihoon's had a moment to consider it, his mouth curves up knowingly. “So—what? Are you _sixty…seventy?”_ He asks, propping himself up on an elbow.

Seungcheol snorts laughter. “I wish. Those were the days.”

Jihoon quirks a brow. “Oh wow, _older_? A hundred?”

Seungcheol shakes his head, laughing.

 _“Tell me.”_ Jihoon needles, pinching him. “Am I even close with a hundred?”

Seungcheol smiles under Jihoon's scrutiny. “Yeah—only if you multiply it by four.”

Jihoon gasps, eyes widening briefly, before narrowing with heated interest. “Grand-daddy.”

Seungcheol should have felt insulted, but Jihoon is looking at him with something a little bit more like awe than anything else.

“No—don’t. Please don’t call me that.” Seungcheol groans, secretly pleased. He wonders if there was anything about him that Jihoon _wouldn’t_ like.

He hopes there isn’t.

It gives him hope to think that someone can like him despite everything—even if he doesn’t think he deserves it.

“Grand-daddy _Cheollie_.” Jihoon coos, stroking a hand down his chest.

Seungcheol pushes his lips out to form a pout. “Stop. I don’t like it. That’s not even that old for us.”

Jihoon smirks down at him, eyes bright and amused. "Oh, shush. You’re such a baby.” He says, rubbing Seungcheol’s stomach in soothing circles. “Werewolf my ass—giant puppy more like."

The loud, drilling tones of the door-bell in the silence of the house cut into Seungcheol’s smartass remark. He can’t stop himself from tensing all over even though he knows it’s transparent as hell.

He's rolling Jihoon to the side and on his feet in seconds, filling the room with expectation. Jihoon blinks at him, drawing the bedsheet up over himself. “Cheol, what’s wrong?”

The frantic pounding at the door gives Seungcheol a feeling of dread in his stomach, heightened by the fact that the scent he detects outside is familiar.

Seungcheol grabs his jeans off the floor and tugs them on. “Go wait in your den. Don’t leave it till I come back.”

“Why? Who do you think it is?” Jihoon asks. He draws his knees to his chest and watches Seungcheol button his shirt. “It’s probably Soonyoung.”

“Now, Jihoonie.” Seungcheol says sternly, an order.

Jihoon pouts but acknowledges the request and ducks into his den to throw on something besides bedsheets.

* * *

When Seungcheol swings the front door open, it’s Mingyu standing outside, his eyebrows arched like question marks.

“Mingyu?” Seungcheol squints, just in case there's some sort of sinister reason, because he might be on friendly terms with Mingyu, but the guy knows not to show up to his house uninvited. Unless ....unless he’s come to _challenge_ him—which seriously, it’s too early for running around and naked Werewolf wrestling.

“Dude—where were you? Why aren’t you answering your phone?” Mingyu asks him, with a flare of anger that says he's been worried.

And—oh _shit_. Of course he’s worried; Seungcheol called him in a panic last night then promptly forgot to _show up._

“Oh shit. I totally forgot about you.” He admits in a rush.

Mingyu’s mouth draws into a tight line. “You ring me in the middle of the night, sounding crazy, ask me for help, then you _forget_? Wonu told me you’re swapping shifts with him today—are you injured? You smell different. Why do you smell different?” He asks all at once.

Seungcheol shakes his head and tries to stay patient. Mingyu’s one of the few Lycan’s he’s friendly with, but there are still times he’d like to gag him.

Mingyu’s a _baby_ Lycan, so it’s like spending time with an excitable puppy—with ADD, on speed! Except more so. Seungcheol should probably introduce him to Soonyoung.

Mingyu slaps a warm hand on Seungcheol’s forehead and looks at him with concern. “Are you sick? Should I get a doctor? Or Jeonghan? Chicken soup?”

And all at once Seungcheol remembers _why_ he routinely stops himself from strangling Mingyu. Because Mingyu’s just about the sweetest guy there is, and he cares with all his giant puppy heart.

Seungcheol lets out an exasperated huff. He brushes Mingyu’s hand away gently. “No, no I’m not sick—or injured. I’m sorry, I forgot I was meant to stop over. Something came up—and, that problem I needed your help with kind of resolved itself now.”

It's the truth. Seungcheol likes to think of it as the Reader's Digest version; he's giving Mingyu the main idea, after all.

“Resolved _how_?” Mingyu tilts his head, wrinkling his brow. “You said you needed me to look after someone, said it was super fucking important. I’ve been waiting up all night for you to show, and calling you non-stop.”

Seungcheol throws his hands up in the air. “It _was important_ —but I sorted it out. No need for your help anymore. Thanks for stopping by, buddy.” He says, starting to shut the door.

“Oh, no you don’t” Mingyu scoffs, pushing the door open again. He steps right up close to Seungcheol, his face grave.

“Look, I know you’re one of these traditionalists who likes to keep to themselves—won’t let anyone in and enjoys their own space. That’s cool—annoying, but cool. But something’s different about you Cheol, and it’s not just me who’s noticed. What’s going on?” Mingyu huffs.

It's half worry and half hope, like he's afraid Seungcheol might have joined some secret Lycan league of evil, but he secretly hopes that he's made a new friend instead.

“Nothing is going on Mingyu.” Seungcheol lies.

That just makes Mingyu’s frown deeper. “I’m not buying that, Maybe I’m not the best person to be in your space right now, but please, let someone in dude. Share what’s on your mind—speak to someone or-”

Mingyu pauses suddenly, then doesn't say anything else. Perhaps he thinks the pause makes him sound _mysterious_.

“What?” Seungcheol prompts, watching as the other Lycan steps further into the house, nose twitching as he sniffs the air. He looks like a bloodhound on a scent. 

Mingyu’s nostrils flare, then makes a noise in his throat, curious. “Do you smell that?”

“Smell _what_?” The moment the words take shape, realization registers on what _exactly_ has Mingyu’s Wolfy senses tingling.

“Uhh—listen _Mingyu_ , you’re absolutely right—I’ll take you up on your advice and I’ll speak to someone about my— _problems_. Thanks for caring. You can go now.” Seungcheol smiles, aiming for innocence and probably only arriving at panicky.

Mingyu’s not buying it though.

He pushes past Seungcheol and into the house proper, sniffing the air in a tragically unsubtle way. And yeah, Seungcheol thinks this probably isn't going to go well, because the smell of baby-vampire has to be pretty much _all over the place._

When Mingyu turns to face Seungcheol again, his eyes are blood red.

“Dude, I can smell _vampire_. This whole place smells of one. Was there a vampire here?” But Mingyu must be able to answer that for himself because he’s quick to offer his two cents on the matter. “Jesus Cheol—is there a vampire here _now_?”

Seungcheol huffs, knowing this isn't going to die down on its own.

“Yes. Okay, don’t freak out—but my housemate is a vampire. A _baby_ one. He’s a stray actually. I kind of imprinted on him.”

Oh wow, it's really not getting better, no matter how many words fall out of his mouth.

"What?" Mingyu yelps, and Seungcheol hadn't known Mingyu was that good at incredulous. "You're shitting me, _seriously_? How is that even… _No_ —it’s not even possible. I know I’m still in my Lycan infancy or whatever, but I know that’s not possible.”

Seungcheol rubs his hand across his mouth, a habit he’s picked up when he’s not sure how to say what he’s about to say. He doesn’t know _how_ to explain it—because technically Mingyu’s right. He shouldn’t have been able to imprint on a Vampire. Even a stray baby. But he has always been fond of Jihoon, since the beginning, for reasons that he’s never understood.

This is going to be a hard sell, even if he can get Mingyu to listen to him.

Shutting the door, Seungcheol leans back against the wall. He’s got every bit of Mingyu’s attention now and doesn’t want it.

“ _Look, it_ all started when I came home one day and found this baby vampire lurking outside. He tried to feed on me and wasn’t successful.”

“So what? You let him inside to try again?” Mingyu’s exasperation is clear.

Seungcheol crosses his arm, which, yes, defensive is probably not a good way to go, and he feels guilty, because this isn't something he wants to have to defend, because there _is_ nothing to defend.

“He’s got baby fangs, _okay_. They’re tiny, so he can’t pierce skin—can’t feed on anyone. He lives on bags of Pseudoglobin and BLT’s and hot chocolate.”

Mingyu looks suspicious, but kind of hopeful, too, as if he wants to be convinced.

Seungcheol tugs off his shirt, and turns around once, slowly, with his arms out-stretched. "Look, no bites. No bruises. It wasn't even worth mentioning."

Yanking his shirt back on, he notices Mingyu still isn’t quite convinced. “He was really malnourished when he showed up here, and I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I brought him inside. I found out he was a stray, that he didn’t have a consensual conversion and he’s been living on the streets for months trying to survive. He’s just nineteen, Mingyu—he’s harmless.”

"Wow," Mingyu whistles between his teeth. "That's some story."

Irritation spikes through Seungcheol. He blows out a breath through his nose.

“It’s _not_ a story. I know how weird it may seem to you, but it’s all under control. He’s just one baby vampire.” He tries to assure, just as there’s another knock on the door.

Seungcheol is only half paying attention when he answers it, busy giving Mingyu the _‘Trust me’_ look over his shoulder.

“Seungcheol, oh goody—you’re home. I was hoping to catch you.” Soonyoung chirps the second the door opens. He’s standing on the bottom step with not one, but _two_ other vampires.

Seungcheol groans in disbelief, which Soonyoung takes as his cue to start the introductions.

“Guys this is Seungcheol, the cuddly wuddly Lycan I was telling you about. Seungcheol, this is Jun and this is Chan. They’re baby vampires too!”

Seungcheol shares his thoughts on that information with a heartfelt curse. He's fairly sure this could be described as _incriminating._

One of the baby vampire’s squints at him suspiciously, like he’s still not sure if he’s in danger by showing up.

“Soonyoung told us you were really nice and would give us hot chocolate. Is that true?”

“I like hot chocolate.” The other baby vampire blurts out from his hiding spot behind Soonyoung. He ducks his head when Seungcheol looks at him, then lifts it again to say: “And I like dogs also.”

Soonyoung puts his hand between the door and the frame in the mistaken assumption Seungcheol won't slam it on his hand. “So, can we come in? I promise I’ll behave this time, we just wanted somewhere safe to chill.”

Seungcheol flounders for a second, and then deflates.

“Alright. Come in— _make yourselves at home_.” He drawls, gesturing them inside, lips pursed in defeated anger. 

Mingyu slants an inscrutable glance at him from under his brows as the three baby vampires file past them down the hallway and Seungcheol wonders when he stopped having some control in his own home.

“Thanks Daddy.” Soonyoung grins as he passes, giving Seungcheol a friendly pat on the cheek which makes Mingyu choke.

Seungcheol rolls his eyes; he’s just grateful Soonyoung didn’t squeeze his ass this time.

“Cheol—” Mingyu begins.

Seungcheol lifts a hand to pre-emptively demolish any arguments Mingyu throws his way. “Okay, so maybe there’s _more_ than one. But I can explain.”

“Oh, boy—I can’t wait to hear this.” Mingyu drawls with thick sarcasm.

“Fuck sake, just come in here.” Seungcheol takes Mingyu proprietarily by the arm and pulls him into the bedroom, since the living room is now occupied with three baby vampires.

He pushes Mingyu down to sit on the edge of the bed and begins pacing in front of him **.** Pinching the bridge of his nose, he thinks very carefully about how to phrase what he wants to say next.

“Okay, so, I know we don’t have the best history with Vampires, but Jihoon, Soonyoung—they’re different. They’re young and inexperienced and they have nobody to guide them. I don’t know why I have taken it upon myself to be that person, but I have, and I feel responsible for them now.”

“Why?” Mingyu asks, quiet behind genuine confusion.

“I don’t know, I just do.” Seungcheol says simply. “And isn’t it better for it to be me, showing them what _not_ to do, instead of letting them run wild—or worse, get _brainwashed_ by some coven? I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life Mingyu, a lot you don’t know about and I hope you never will. But I reached a turning point one day, when I just—couldn’t kill….”

Seungcheol shakes his head, wiping the images flashing in his mind away. “Couldn’t do it anymore, and things changed for me forever. I don’t want them to get anywhere near the stage I was at. I want them to be better.”

Mingyu looks at him, that steady considering look and Seungcheol thinks maybe there's a chance he's convincing him, just a little bit.

There’s a quiet creak from the closet as the door pushes open ever so slightly.

“Cheollie?” Jihoon whispers, poking his head out.

Seungcheol smiles, waving him out. “Yeah, Jihoonie, it’s okay. You can come out now.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow as Jihoon shuffles out, dividing a look between them.

He comes closer, looking almost tentative. “Uhm—you look like you’re busy. I’ll be in the living room.” He stabs a thumb in the direction of the door, but his eyes don't leave Seungcheol’s face. He grins at Seungcheol, almost bashful, and Seungcheol can’t stop himself from giving Jihoon’s lips a soft, quick kiss.

All right, maybe not _that_ quick.

There’s some tongue action and the sound of Mingyu’s jaw dropping is audible when Seungcheol smacks Jihoon on the ass as he scampers out of the room.

“You—I—he—” Mingyu tries to speak twice and fails both times.

 _“Use your words.”_ Seungcheol intones.

“You have one living in your _closet_?”

Seungcheol decides to ignore the faintly accusatory tone. He can already feel the beginnings of a migraine settling in

“Yeah, that’s Jihoon. The one I was telling you about. I built him a den.” Seungcheol stares Mingyu down and dares him to complain. He doesn’t care anymore. It’s sharing season.

Mingyu, mostly stunned, diverts the conversation to: “But you kissed him. He’s wearing your shirt. He smells of you. _A lot!”_

Seungcheol snorts, rubbing a tired hand over his face. “Well—he fucking better, we just has sex.”

** Sharing season. **

Mingyu gives him a long _look_.

Seungcheol sighs and takes a seat on the bed next to him. “I accept this is a lot of information to take in. You’re a Lycan, and you’ve been following the Lycan way, and it’s hard for you to picture a vampire from a sexual point of view-“

“Oh, I think they’re plenty sexy. I absolutely see the appeal.” Mingyu interjects casually.

Which—was _totally_ not what Seungcheol expected him to say.

Well, shit.

“You’re kidding.”

“No.” Mingyu coughs awkwardly, “Depends on the vampire obviously, but I’ve found myself checking them out on occasion. The Barista in my local coffee shop is a vampire. _Minghao_ I think is his name—he’s pretty fit. I asked him for his number once and he ran away. Now he’s _conveniently_ on his break after time I stop by. I think _he_ thinks I want to eat him. And I _do_ —but not in a _bad_ way. _If you know what I mean.”_

Mingyu’s blushing to the roots of his hair, and Seungcheol can feel his own face growing hot.

He can’t believe they’re sitting in his bedroom discussing sexy vampires.

Jeez, he didn’t even want to know Mingyu _had_ a sex life. Though it’s reassuring to know he isn’t the only Lycan that’s attracted to vampires.

“Oh—well, I’m happy you’re okay with this.” Seungcheol says, scratching his head.

Mingyu nods. Then just a quickly shakes his head. “No, I’m still pissed with you Cheol. You mislead me.”

“What?”

Mingyu’s forehead creased, mouth going soft - and then suddenly firm, like he's steeling himself for something.

“When I asked you before, whether you had a pack, you said you did once, and you had no interest in ever forming one again. Now, I come here and find you’ve built a pack, and it’s full of baby vampires.” he says, with enough weight behind it that Seungcheol winces.

“They’re _not_ my pack.” Seungcheol stresses.

Mingyu shakes his head, an inch away from pouting. “Well they certainly _look_ like they are—wearing your clothes, sleeping in your territory and drinking your hot chocolate.”

Seungcheol swallows back a mouthful of excuses and mollifications and develops a sudden interest in the floor. “What do you want me to say Mingyu?”

“I want you to say I can be part of your weird ass pack.” Mingyu says petulantly.

Seungcheol snaps his head up and stares. " _What_?"

Mingyu's expression falters. "I want to be part of your pack--"

"No, I heard that," Seungcheol interrupts. "You want to be in my pack? _You_?"

“Yeah.” Mingyu says, his brow wrinkling in consternation. “I’ve been patiently waiting for you to build one, waiting for you to get over whatever made you so butthurt about your last pack. I figured, being one of the few Lycan you stay in contact with, you wouldn’t mind me joining. I really look up to you Hyung.”

"Me?" Seungcheol says, stunned.

He blinks a few times, but Mingyu is grinning from ear to ear. He seems completely, totally serious about this.

Seungcheol sighs and drops his head into his hands.

People tend to view Seungcheol with suspicion, terrible suspicion. He's been wanted for murder at least a hundred times, and he's been a person of interest more times than he can actually remember, and he's been _'a person we just have a few questions for,'_ about twice as many times as that. It's not surprising that people aren't exactly handing out the Birthday Party invites or asking to join his fucking pack.

He wasn’t looking to build another pack, if he’s being honest. Not after that disastrous ending to his old one—which was _mostly_ his fault.

Okay, totally all his fault.

Not that he has any regrets. They _deserved_ everything they got.

But now he seems to have built a pack without even _trying_ —and Gentle Mingyu wants in. He’s even giving Seungcheol the tragically sad look of a dejected puppy, which Seungcheol should be absolutely immune to by now.

He’s ashamed to say he’s not.

“Okay—fine. You can be part of my pack.” Seungcheol says, with a little lopsided shrug.

“Really? Are you sure?” Mingyu gasps in surprise. He grabs Seungcheol by the shoulders, levelling a heartfelt look in his eyes. “This is all a bit sudden. I—I don’t know what to say.” He whispers, like he wasn’t expecting it, even though he practically puppy eyed Seungcheol into agreeing.

_“You just said--”_

“Okay, I’m in. Fuck! I’m so excited.” Mingyu interjects, giving Seungcheol a little shake to reinforce his words. “I always wanted to be part of a pack. I’ve been waiting for this for so long. I’m so happy!”

Mingyu’s vibrating in excitement, grinning from ear to ear like it’s the best news in the world.

Seungcheol can’t help but laugh. You’d never know Mingyu was fifty-four.

“This is awesome. I promise you won’t regret this Hyung—I’ll do my best. This is so huge. We should celebrate! Is there some kind of initiation ceremony? Don’t we have to lick each other?”

Seungcheol gives him a sour look, “What? _No_!”

Well, actually, that’s not _entirely_ truthful.

“I mean, _traditionally_ , yes we would.” Seungcheol backtracks at the lost face Mingyu levels him. “We’d strip down and wrestle. A _friendly_ wrestle. Then we’d sniff each other’s asses and there _might_ be some licking, if I was feeling generous. But that’s--”

Seungcheol’s cut off when Mingyu rests a firm hand on his knee, and says, very seriously, “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Seungcheol lets his face show everything he thinks about that idea, “No—let’s _not_. Some traditions are outdated for a reason.”

“I think you should stick with tradition. Tradition is important.” Soonyoung interrupts, suddenly leaning in the doorway. He glances between them, assessing. “I’d pay good money to see you guys be _traditional_ with each other.”

Seungcheol shoots him a dark look. “Do you mind. This is a _private_ conversation.”

“Then have it somewhere private.” Soonyoung shrugs.

Seungcheol waves a hand, desperately. “We are! This is my bedroom!”

Soonyoung looks around the room, realises that, yes this is in fact Seungcheol's room.

“The door was open.”

 _“No, it wasn’t!”_ Seungcheol says in irritation - no, a stronger word than irritation, if only he could think of one.

Soonyoung sighs, like Seungcheol has been disappointingly unhelpful. “Are you guys going to get naked and wrestle or not?”

“NO!”

Mingyu’s wearing an expression that says he’s never going to be happy again, unless they naked wrestle. But he soon shakes it off and steps forward.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get to introduce myself earlier.” He says, holding a hand out to Soonyoung. “I’m Mingyu—I work with Seungcheol, and now I’m part of his pack.”

“Nice to meet you, Mingyu. I’m Soonyoung, Seungcheol’s best friend, belly rubber and aspiring lover.” Soonyoung says and _there's_ that strange sense of humour, always inappropriate, occasionally terrifying.

Mingyu seems to approve, god knows _why_.

“Cheol, can I have more hot chocolate?” Chino, or Chan or who the fuck ever shouts from the living room.

“Forget hot chocolate—check out this Vodka!” Jun cuts in.

Seungcheol’s eyes dart towards the ceiling, asking for divine intervention. An earthquake, Tsunami or natural disaster of some sorts. God’s obviously skipped out for lunch or something, because the ground hasn’t opened up to swallow him yet.

“So,” Mingyu begins, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “What’s on the agenda for pack business today?”

“Nothing.” Seungcheol snaps.

“Since we have a lot of new members, we should probably take part in some _bonding activities.”_ Soonyoung suggests, talking over him with ease.

It doesn’t take a genius to know Soonyoung is hinting at a giant Vampire/Lycan orgy of some kind. Seungcheol knows him well enough by now to read between the perverted lines.

“We should go bowling!” Mingyu suggests, and Seungcheol’s expression of disapproval is completely wasted, because Mingyu isn't even bothering to look at him.

Soonyoung drops his leer to grin manically. “That sounds awesome! And we can get pizza after.”

“PIZZA!” Absolutely _everyone_ yells.

Seungcheol finds himself heading quickly into a much less accommodating mood. He doesn’t know whether he wants to Wolf out, cry or tear out his hair in frustration.

He doesn’t have to do anything, because in the next minute—Jihoon’s stomping into the room, tiny fists clenched, and baby fangs bared.

“That’s enough! Soonyoung, Tall guy—living room, _now_.” Jihoon snaps, frowning seriously at them.

Soonyoung and Mingyu tense up, then scatter, bolting out of the room, leaving Seungcheol sitting on the bed, blinking in confusion, wondering if _he’s_ in trouble somehow.

Jihoon shuts the door behind them, then pads over to the bed.

Seungcheol’s surprised when he immediately feels Jihoon’s palm on the nape of his neck, tugging him forward until their foreheads meet.

“Is my big puppy angry with all the new people in his territory?” He coos with a gruff kiss to Seungcheol’s temple.

“No….Yes.” Seungcheol squirms awkwardly for a second.

Sometimes Jihoon is almost telepathic. It unnerves him just a little. He tilts his head back and lets out a huge sigh. There’s no point even trying to hide his frustration.

“It’s just a lot to take in. So many people in my space at once—asking for naked wrestling and butt sniffing.”

Jihoon watches with far too much understanding in his eyes. And a hint of amusement. “You want me to kick them out? I can do that.” He says, moving to sit beside him, petting his hair.

Seungcheol finds he’s pushing his head into the touch instinctively, seeking more of it. “No, it’s okay. They’re pack I guess.”

* * *

Namjoon’s bakery looks like a tornado has been through it.

There are baking trays and saucepans and rolling pins on the floor, smashed cartons of runny eggs on the counters, bags of flour burst open and dusting every surface.

Seungcheol doesn’t think the hunter has actually been rifling through the kitchen—he suspects that this is how Namjoon’s workspace _always_ looks.

This place is clearly a health hazard.

Yoongi’s standing at a work bench taking his frustrations out on a piece of dough, not kneading it exactly, but beating it to death with a rolling pin. He clearly has no idea what kneading is or how to bake in any way—but he’s giving it a damn good go.

He stops when he notices Seungcheol, setting his rolling pin aside. “Boss is out the back— _baking_.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow in a questioning gesture. “What’s that code for?”

Yoongi pauses in the middle of wiping his hands to give him a squinty eyed look. “Nothing. He’s _actually_ baking. He’s making cookies. This is a bakery you know—amongst other things.”

“Oh, right.”

When Seungcheol pushes into the smaller kitchen out the back, Namjoon is standing by the stove, dumping two pounds of evenly portioned butter into a saucepan. He’s wearing a frilly pink apron that reads: ‘Lick my frosting’.

Seungcheol wonders for a very long minute whether he's slipped on something and concussed himself.

Eventually he decides that that apron is _very_ real.

He doesn't know whether to laugh, or just feel tragically, unbearably sad for Namjoon.

He steps into the kitchen soundlessly, crosses his arms and leans a hip against the counter. “Nice apron.”

Namjoon’s head snaps up, looking surprised and a little amused to see him. 

“Oh, thank fuck. You’re alright.” He replies. Signs of relief beginning to show on his face. “Thanks for answering your phone by the way. And replying to my messages. I was in no way worrying about you all night, pacing the halls waiting to hear from you, or baking batch upon batch of brownies to relieve stress because you’re an illusive bastard!”

Namjoon’s hissy fit is much more entertaining thanks to the apron.

“Thanks for the heads up.” Seungcheol says, then remembers he's pissed off with Namjoon for putting him in danger in the first place. “Though it’s your fault I needed the heads up in the first place, your security is clearly _lax_.”

Namjoon grimaces. He looks fatigued, restrained, as if he is working every minute to hold himself in check. Seungcheol resists the urge to ask if he is feeling alright. “Yeah—I figured you’d say that. I guess I’ve gotten lazy and too comfortable, but this has definitely been a wake-up call. I know I messed up, but that’s why I’m going to do you an even _bigger_ discount on the papers.”

Seungcheol doesn't allow a single muscle in his face to twitch. “You’ll do them for _free_.”

“Deal!” Namjoon nods magnanimously.

Seungcheol stares at him, stone faced. “That’s not a deal Namjoon, it’s a _warning_.”

The look of outrage on Namjoon's face is classic. “Aw _, hey_ , now— _hey_. Don’t be like _that_. I didn’t know the guy would break in here. And the minute I realised what he knew, I was on the phone to you. I’m trying to set things right. Look, I even baked you cookies.” He says, adopting his most innocent look.

Seungcheol glances down at the table, where Namjoon has two dozen cookies laid out on a cooling rack. They look a little crispy around the edges and oddly shaped, but they smell good.

“What’s in them?”

Suddenly, Namjoon smiles broadly. He looks proud of himself.

“Butter, sugar, flour, a whole ton of chocolate chips. And a special ingredient; a little something extra, _just for you_.” He says, waggling his eyebrows. “Nothing says I’m sorry I accidentally lead a hunter to your doorstep like a batch of Joon’s famous cookies.” He boasts.

Seungcheol gives him the face that says _, ‘You better not have laced those cookies with anything poisonous, or I’ll eat you and everything in this shop.’_

Namjoon’s pouting now, which is not a good look for him.

“The special ingredient is love!” He sulks, and it is times like this when Seungcheol is grateful they know each other well-enough that threats can be delivered with a look. It makes things so much simpler.

Seungcheol sighs and waves his hand. “Alright-well hurry up and package them. I gotta get to work.”

He’s not about to turn down free cookies, despite how lopsided they look. He’s a single parent with a lot of baby vampire mouths to feed now.

Namjoon grins and stuffs a cookie in Seungcheol’s mouth before stacking the rest into parchment paper, and tucking them into a wicker basket.

“What’s with the basket? Don’t you have a box or something?” Seungcheol asks, tongue catching the dab of chocolate at the side of his mouth

“I thought you’d prefer a basket. Tradition and all. Why do you think I’m wearing this apron?” Namjoon says, waggling his brows again.

“It’s not red though, it’s pink. Traditionally it should be red. It only works with red—you know what just hurry up and give me those fucking cookies!” Seungcheol growls. 

Namjoon laughs and stuffs another cookie in his mouth.

* * *

When Seungcheol gets back, all the lights are dimmed and the whole apartment smells like roasted chicken. There's a faint glow of candle light coming from the coffee table, and just as he rounds the corner he can see more pretty tea lights scattered throughout the living room.

Seungcheol's first thought is, _Fire hazard_. His second is, _Power outage._ But realisation dawns on him when he steps into the kitchen to find Jihoon standing at the counter, basting a chicken.

It’s kind of _romantic._

The vibe—not the chicken.

"You cooked?" Seungcheol asks suspiciously, shucking off his jacket.

"I can cook," Jihoon protests.

He puts a hand on his hip, and Seungcheol's eyes are drawn to the teeny tiny shorts he’s wearing. Possibly for Seungcheol’s benefit.

"Well, I’m _trying_ to anyway. This is the first time I’ve ever cooked roast chicken, but I followed this recipe I found on YouTube and it’s looking okay so far. I hope it _turns_ out okay, and I don’t give you Salmonella poisoning or something."

“I can’t get Salmonella poisoning Hoonie.” Seungcheol pats his stomach and smirks. “Lycan digestion.”

Jihoon giggles and slides the chicken back into the oven. “True, but I still want it to taste good for you. I hope you’re hungry.”

It does smell good. Seungcheol's stomach rumbles, and he drapes his jacket over the back of a chair. But something _else_ smells even better.

“I have something for you.” Seungcheol murmurs into Jihoon's ear, stepping into his space.

Jihoon pivots with ease, “Is it your big—"

He pauses, glancing at the item in Seungcheol’s hand, visibly taking a deep breath. Seungcheol holds his as he hands over a black leather wallet, opened to reveal an ID card tucked inside, with Jihoon’s precious face on it.

Seungcheol nudges it into Jihoon’s hands and watches the Vampire’s eyes water as he clutches the wallet in a tight grip. “ _Cheol_ —I. You--”

He can’t seem to say anything else, because there’s a painful twist to his mouth, like he’s forcing himself not to cry. But his face is bright red, part emotion and part embarrassment, and he won't meet Seungcheol's eyes and Seungcheol loves him _impossibly_.

Seungcheol puts his knuckles against Jihoon’s arm, runs them up and down. “There’s a birth certificate too, and a passport and a conversion record. You can take copies for your interview, but it’s best you keep the originals somewhere safe in your den. Okay?”

Jihoon nods silently. His bangs flop in his face, half obscuring the helpless quivering lip and watery eyes, but Seungcheol can still see them all too clearly.

Seungcheol grins and settles his hands on the vampire’s slim hips, pressing close to rest his forehead against Jihoon's.

“You’re going to apply for that job, and you’re going to ace that interview. Soonyoung can be your reference. Hell, _I’ll_ be your reference, nobody says I can’t be.” He grins, rubbing his thumb against the side of Jihoon’s cheek. “And I’ll help you prep for your interview too, and we’ll go out and buy you the cutest little suit. And when you get that job—and you will, cause you’re awesome—you better pet _all_ the dogs.”

Jihoon grins at him, a wide happy smile that Seungcheol _has_ to lean into, has to kiss like it belongs to him.

When they break apart, Jihoon tucks the wallet safely on top of the fridge, where Seungcheol keeps his too. As he turns around, he wipes his eyes and makes a noise in his throat.

“Thank you so much Cheol. I don’t even know how I can begin to thank you properly, but I’ll try. How much did this cost you? I’m going to pay you back.”

Seungcheol chuckles and shakes his head. “It didn’t cost me anything sweetness.”

He’s surprised to feel a hand cup the edge of his jaw firmly. “Don’t lie Cheollie,” Jihoon’s tone turns serious. “I know nothing’s for free.”

“This was. I promise. Namjoon did it for free, cause it was sort of his fault the Hunter found out where you were.”

Jihoon mulls that over, testing the truth of it. “How much would it have cost you if that _hadn’t_ have happened?”

“Not much.” Seungcheol says without missing a beat.

Jihoon’s eyes narrow and Seungcheol knows he’s biting back a formal protest. He leans in and brushes a thumb lightly across Jihoon's bottom lip. “It’s not important.”

His baby vampire flushes and ducks his head, shuffling closer, then closer still—nudging into Seungcheol’s chest lightly. The gesture confuses Seungcheol for a second, until he realises Jihoon wants a _hug_.

Seungcheol bends down and hugs him. Hard, almost picking the baby vampire up off his feet with the strength of it. He can feel all of Jihoon’s fears and worries in that hug, all the insecurities he tries so hard to pretend don’t exist. Jihoon closes his eyes and leans into him, and Seungcheol offers his mouth, his tongue and his body in reassurance.

He lets his hands drift over Jihoon’s back in gentle strokes and without thinking about it, sticks his nose beneath Jihoon’s jaw, seeking out his scent along the vulnerable line of his throat.

Jihoon smells great—as amazing as he always does, though Seungcheol can detect a trace of Mingyu and Soonyoung and everyone else that’s been in his space today, and immediately decides to replace it with something else: _Him_.

Jihoon makes a low sound in the back of his throat when Seungcheol sucks on the side of his neck, just below the conversion scar. He tightens his grip on the sharp angles of Jihoon’s hipbones and begins rubbing his stubble ruff cheek against Jihoon’s pale throat. 

When his head comes back up, Jihoon’s hands are on his shoulders, fingers digging in, eyes a little unfocused. “What are you doing?”

“Need to. Just—let me…” Seungcheol trails off as he tugs his baby vampire closer, rubbing his jaw over the top of Jihoon’s head, runs his hands down to Jihoon’s ass, listens for the small intake of breath.

It’s not enough—not _quite_ enough.

Scooping the vampire of his feet, Seungcheol squeezes him tightly. Jihoon’s muscles coil in a way that means he’s about to protest, but Seungcheol is almost there, and he whines high in his throat.

Jihoon freezes. Then he slowly, and very noticeably, relaxes.

Seungcheol takes it for the permission it is and continues his exploration, nosing at the hinge of Jihoon’s jaw and the soft curls hiding behind his ear. Jihoon’s hands lower to his sides and he tilts his head back the barest amount, just enough for Seungcheol to register his exposed throat. He licks at the conversion bite there, over and over with the flat of his tongue until Jihoon’s all but moaning in his arms.

Seungcheol comes back to himself a moment later, humiliatingly aware that he’s been grinding against Jihoon, rubbing his baby vampire up and down his body like a human loofah.

When Seungcheol sets the Vampire down and pulls back, Jihoon’s face is flushed and his hair is wild; springing in extravagant leaps from the crown of his head, like it has some sort of undisclosed escape plan. But he isn’t scowling like Seungcheol’s expecting him too, he’s just watching him back steadily. 

Seungcheol clears his throat. “I realised you’d be out there on your own soon, and I needed you to smell like me,” he says instead of apologizing, because he can’t change what he is and he won’t apologize for it. 

“Why?” Jihoon asks, gazing intensely into Seungcheol's eyes.

Seungcheol shrugs, embarrassed. “To protect you. It’s a Lycan thing okay, to ward off predators.” He replies inanely.

 _Competitors—_ would be more accurate _._ But he’s not going to tell Jihoon that.

Or maybe he doesn’t have to—because Jihoon draws his head back, an eyebrow raised knowingly with just the slightest curl at the corners of his mouth.

“Next you’ll be wanting to piss on me.” Jihoon say steadily, a thread of teasing woven into his undertone.

Seungcheol scoffs something offended. He folds his hands in complicated ways until he finally rests them on his hips. “Well, is that something you’re likely to let me do? _Hmm_? Because let me tell you—that would save a lot of time Jihoon.”

He realises what he’s blurted out a second too late—but thankfully, instead of recoiling in disgust, Jihoon just bursts out laughing.

Seungcheol ducks his head shamefully, feeling his face heat. “It’s good that you’re so cool with me being weird.” He mumbles. “I’m not trying to be, it’s just who I am.”

Jihoon slows his breathing and wipes a tear from the corner of his eyes. “You are weird. But it’s cute. You’re _cute_.”

The vampire closes the distance between then once more and loops his arms around Seungcheol’s neck, perching on his tip toes to rub their noses together. “But if you’re insisting that I smell like you—I’m sure there’s a much more _fun_ way we could go about it.”

Seungcheol furrows his brows pensively. “I _suppose_ I could shave a little of my fur off and—oh—oh! I get it. _Yeah_ , let’s do that!”


End file.
